Nicholas stood with his back to the light, his hands clenched to fists in his dressing-gown pockets. She could see his black eyes reflecting her own. ‘Is this happening to us?’ he said, ignoring Emily. ‘An ordinary family?’

‘I hope no one will ever call us that,’ protested Emily with her usual sharp spirit. ‘We are too remarkable. What’s the fuss about?’ She looked from Laura to Nicholas. ‘We only want your rooms for servants or whatever they like to be called these days. I suppose they will consider us ordinary. Am I missing something?’ she asked. ‘Some nuance?’

‘No,’ said Laura, exchanging a glance with Nicholas, ‘I don’t think you are missing anything.’

‘A few days ago you said you loved us.’ Nicholas ignored his sister.

‘So I did.’ Laura stood up. ‘Finished your coffee?’ she asked. ‘I’ll see to your lunch. I bought fish.’

‘Laura.’ Nicholas followed her out of the room.

‘It’s all right,’ said Laura, ‘nothing’s changed.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Nicholas, ‘oh dear, oh dear.’

Laura started down the stairs with the coffee tray. The cups rattled annoyingly in their saucers. Nicholas caught up with her in the hall. ‘It would be such a gross betrayal if you said anything to—’

‘Don’t worry, Nicholas,’ she said, ‘I told you nothing has changed. Worse,’ she said, pushing open the kitchen door, ‘can’t be worse.’

‘That’s what you think,’ said Nicholas. ‘Oh darling, I do love you.’

‘And that’s a pity too. Go back to Emily, Nicholas, go!’

I shall put this out of my mind, she thought, washing the cups at the sink. I shall walk over the hills this afternoon and exhaust myself. I shall come back and have supper with Claud and go to bed with him and if May is in bed with us, it bloody well can’t be helped. At least I shall get those two old grey people out of my mind. ‘And tomorrow,’ she said to the cat, ‘we shall go back to London and stay there.’

Laura sat in the wine bar. She was wearing a snuff-coloured skirt and a bitter chocolate jersey. At her feet in its wicker basket her small cat glowered.

Since she had been in in the autumn the bar had changed hands. The new owners kept it dark, compensating for the lack of light with soft musak and a line of rich gâteaux served with Viennese coffee, hoping to attract a classier clientèle than the market people who, with their loud talk and noisy camaraderie, had been apt to treat the bar as a club to the exclusion of others.