‘I plan to get Mavis to work part-time with me,’ said Terrence, ignoring the hint. ‘It’s a local job, see.’

‘Very nice.’ Laura folded the paper to the leader page. Was the thought of Terrence living in the rooms where she had made love to Claud abhorrent? She had been stupid to allow him to keep coming there; it would have been better to have stuck to the loft where somehow she had always kept the upper hand, contained her love (if that was what it was). If she had not had an assignation with Margaret Bannister she would have paid her bill and left.

‘When I have some experience I shall go to a school for butlers and move on to the States. They pay terrific salaries there. You get your own car, the lot.’

‘That’s all right, then,’ said Laura.

Terrence moved away to position himself by the bar, ready to swoop on customers as they came in.

He’s a sly fellow, she thought. I’ve never much liked him. Why doesn’t he say he is going to work for Nicholas and Emily? Perhaps he is not telling me because he resents my teasing him when Claud and I ate the oysters. Does he think I might put a damper on his plan? Will his smell obliterate the faint echo of Claud in my bed, of us lying by the fire? I must look on his presence in the Old Rectory not as a barrier but as a protective shield. I wonder how he will get on with Bonzo?

Laura looked at her watch. Unpunctual people irritated her; Margaret Bannister was late. She tapped a spoon against her empty glass, and gave Margaret another five minutes.

The street door swung open and Helen Peel came in. Laura raised her newspaper too late; Helen had seen her. ‘When am I going to get my hand?’ She advanced on Laura, sat without being asked at the table.

‘Soon,’ said Laura.

‘I suppose you have been looking after Emily and Nicholas.’ Helen always knew it all. ‘They have had flu.’

‘Yes.’

‘She and Nicholas are bloody spoiled, never lift a finger, do they?’

‘No.’

‘I hear that they are going to have a living-in couple. Putting them in your part of the house. I suppose you know all this?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can’t imagine how they can afford it, they must be living on capital. Aren’t you worried?’

‘No.’

‘They can’t make much from their articles and reviews.’

‘No.’

‘Where’s that boy?’ Helen snapped her fingers. ‘Here, Terrence, stop picking your nose and bring me some coffee.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Terrence grovelled, ‘Your usual chocolate gâteau with your coffee and whipped cream, ma’am?’ He winked at Laura. ‘Or will madam have wine today?’

‘Coffee, of course. D’you suppose he’s making fun of me? They normally call one love or ducks. What d’you think, Laura?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh.’ Helen looked surprised. Terrence set coffee, cream, and a large slice of cake before Helen. ‘D’you think I should eat this? Christopher says I am losing my figure.’