They both stared in silence for a minute at where Michael was sitting, also in the shade of the oak tree, talking to Frances who was making him laugh.

‘Harry does this mean – have you had – have you—?’

‘It’s a long, long time since Michael and I were lovers,’ said Harry, ‘but yes. I finally did it last week, I get the results the day I fly to Morocco on holiday later this week, I thought that would be fitting.’ He smiled at her brightly.

‘Oh Harry.’ Pauline awkwardly put her hand out to Harry, rested it on his arm, not knowing what to say.

‘Ah Pauly.’ And he took her hand in his, held it there in the sunny crowded garden, among the calling and the laughing, quite silent.

‘You know,’ said Harry, recovering, ‘you look so beautiful, your eyes are shining, do you know that? You’ve aged better than all of us Pauly, do you realise? And I was talking about you the other day, I met a circus performer.’

Pauline’s face closed up just a little.

‘Mmmmmm’ she said, looking about her garden.

‘He was an old man, I’d say he was about eighty, I’d – I’d met him years ago actually, and he was telling me he’d worked in France and lived in a caravan, and I did wonder if he might have known your father, you know, two Englishmen working in circuses, or is it circii, in France, but I couldn’t remember any details of your father.’

‘What was his name?’

‘His name was Roger,’ said Harry.

For the second time in half an hour Pauline’s heart gave a violent lurch.

She gripped Harry’s arm hard, surprised him. ‘Was he gay?’ she said.

He stared at her. ‘As a matter of fact, yes.’

Pauline’s face looked quite odd, something strange in her eyes that Harry couldn’t read, and just then someone pulled at her. ‘Darling Pauline such a wonderful party, such a wonderful day.’

‘Wait there,’ Pauline hissed at Harry quite unnerving him. She kissed the new arrival, ‘Darling lovely to see you, Benedict will get you a drink,’ and she waved at her son who was passing, ‘and help yourself to food while there’s still some left,’ turned back quickly to Harry.

‘Harry my father was gay and he worked in a circus in France and I’ve never met him.’

‘What do you mean you never met him? He was the hero of the class!’

‘I – made it up. But it was true, he was in a circus and – and his name was Roger – Harry what was his other name?’

‘Oh come on darling,’ said Harry laughing at her, yet his stomach gave a tiny, unpleasant somersault. Was it Pauline’s father who had saved him in York by the railway station?

Almost fearfully Pauline asked her last question in a small voice. ‘Was his name Roger Popham?’