‘It must be very hard for you,’ said Adrian’s mother, smiling sympathetically at Irene across the table. Woman to woman.

Irene looked at Adrian, staring sullenly at his plate, like a little boy whose dignity’s been punctured, and allowed her panic and anger to take hold. She put her fork and knife down, sat up straighter in her chair, her green hat skewed sideways. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Well – having to be the main earner and everything. Never knowing for sure what’s going to happen. I know you cope wonderfully, but it must be hard.’

‘Not at all,’ said Irene. ‘I’m very proud of Adrian and have complete faith in him. It’s not hard at all, except for him.’

Clem tugged Adrian’s sleeve. ‘Why is Mummy talking so loudly?’

‘He’s a wonderful actor and he’s a wonderful father and it’s simply a matter of time before –’

‘Irene, you don’t need to.’

‘You should support him and have confidence. Like I do. That’s what families are supposed to do.’

‘Well,’ said Adrian’s mother. She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. ‘I was just saying it must be hard, on top of everything else. We’ve driven all the way from Derby for this lunch and you don’t need to shout like that.’

‘I was just speaking firmly,’ said Irene, biting back the impulse to apologize. ‘Aggie, don’t do that. Eat a sprout instead.’

Later, in the small, bedraggled garden in the rain, Adrian stood with his father.

‘Sorry about Irene’s outburst.’

‘Oh well. Women get emotional at this time of year, don’t they? I’ll say this for Irene: she’s got spirit, hasn’t she?’

‘That’s certainly true.’

‘Val will get over it soon enough.’

‘Mum was right, of course; it’s been hard recently. Um – and as a matter of fact just at the moment I’m a bit strapped for cash.’

‘Mmm?’ His father’s tone had become casual. He stared hard at the lawn and poked the soggy grass with the tip of his brogue.

‘I was wondering – I hate to ask you this – if you could lend me some money. Just to tide me over. I’d be very grateful.’

‘Money?’ He made it sound like a foreign word whose meaning he was unsure of.

‘Yes.’

Both men looked down at the grass.

‘How much?’

‘I was thinking – I was hoping you could lend me, say, £7,000.’

‘Seven thousand!’

‘Yes. Or even –’

‘That’s a lot of money. A lot.’

‘I know, I just –’

‘Lend?’

‘Of course.’

‘Have you asked your bank?’

‘Not as such.’ Adrian didn’t want to embark on the narrative of his recent dealings with the bank. ‘But I don’t think they’d be very helpful just at the moment.’