Everybody remembered Joseph Wain because of his hair. Due to some quirk of fate, or genes, it grew upwards only, so that he looked like Struwwelpeter in the old admonitory German children’s stories, or like a comic-book version of somebody having an electric shock. In the sixties when Pauline knew him it just made him look surprised all the time. In the seventies his career was meteoric and that may have been partly due to the fact that, to the trend-setting media world, as well as being a whizz kid he looked like a punk in a suit. He was one of the few television executives who occasionally appeared in front of a camera, as well as behind it, his hair his mark, the thing people remembered. In the eighties and nineties his hair had suddenly turned white, growing upwards still. Once, long ago, by the ticket window at Leicester Square tube station, he’d told Pauline he loved her. I love you because – he had hesitated – I see that kind of veneer of style that you’ve perfected so cleverly but Pauly I know your heart’s underneath. And I love you because I think it’s... endearing, that thing about wanting to fly like this father that I don’t believe you’ve ever met. Pauline, at the tube station, was deeply shocked, as if he could see the inside of her head. She had quickly laughed.

Don’t be silly Joey, she had said, I’m in love with Anthony Bonham, you know that.

I know I know, young Joseph Wain had said. And had added slowly: I just wanted to tell you, because I’m getting married on Thursday.

And just for a moment she had thought, almost subconsciously: oh. Somehow she minded. And then she had quickly shaken the surprising thought away and said: Congratulations Joey.

She briefly remembered this odd, old exchange as she smiled up at him.

‘Oh it’s so good to see you Joey,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages, you look terrific.’ And she looked at him again. His face looked young still, and his eyes were alive and beautiful still, although his hair was white. ‘But there’s something different about your hair.’

‘I cut it really short at last,’ he said, ‘it’s slightly less alarming for my old age.’

Pauline smiled. ‘Well, even elderly I would have invited you,’ she said, ‘but it’s years and years since I’ve seen you...’

He laughed. ‘Anthony suggested I come, I had a meeting with him on Friday as you know.’