‘Mimi, are you sure that Clare was blackmailing Ralph? It seems –just – rather strong a word to use. Clare’s so… drippy. And I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but… she seems quite nice.’

‘No, I don’t know for sure that she is blackmailing him,’ I say. ‘But why did she show up at my party, then, like that? That’s not wet behaviour. You don’t just show up, if you’re not invited. What was all that about, then?’

‘I don’t know, Mimi. She was stuck in the gamekeeper’s cottage, on her own, with Joe. Gideon is fairly semi-detached these days, I gather, from the family unit. Everyone was coming to your Death in Venice extravaganza, she doesn’t hunt, she can’t even go for walks because Joe’s in a pushchair, so maybe she lost the plot and thought, I’ll just turn up, Ralph will take pity, and Mimi will be my friend again, and it’ll all be all right.’

‘I’ve never not been her friend,’ I correct Rose, ‘it’s just been tricky. And it’s not exactly going to make it a whole lot less tricky now I’ve found out she has persuaded my husband to give her a baby.’ Luckily, Rose doesn’t bring up the abortion. It makes me realize, though, that my situation vis à vis my own husband right now is humiliating enough already without needing to bring that up.

‘Er, Mimi. You don’t have to answer this.’ Rose twiddles an elegant ankle. ‘Are you going to tell the children?’

‘Tell them what?’ I arrange my forearms on either side of my body so they tan evenly, and spread fingers on the towelling coverlet.

Tropical birds are singing a fraction too loudly in the canopy above our heads but, otherwise, it is all perfect. We are in a deeply comfortable, highly tasteful pad in Jamaica with congenial company (I can’t understand why Rose repeatedly cheats on Pierre, who is funny, artistic, good-looking and, best of all, nice to me, but then – I’m not married to him, Rose is. That explains everything). It isn’t even unbearably hot, despite Ralph’s gloomy predictions and, so far, the only whining sound is coming not from mosquitoes but from me, when meals I haven’t had to lift a finger to prepare are late in appearing.

‘About their little half-brother. Joe. The baby. He’s very sweet… Even if he is Clare’s, he’s Ralph’s too, as if anyone could miss that.’