He took her to a small restaurant which was so exclusive that not many people knew it existed; it was owned by the TV company that Joseph was head of. Each of the booths was private: you could not hear what anyone else in the restaurant was saying. A waiter glided in and out discreetly. Pauline had an odd feeling of wanting to reach out and touch Joseph Wain’s springy, surprised hair again; did not of course, he was not her Joey of the past.

Joseph checked their order, poured some wine for Pauline, a glass of Evian water for himself. He sat back in his chair, powerful and sure.

‘So have you and Anthony talked about it?’

Pauline, stylish as ever, mask in place, could never look embarrassed. But Joseph watched her carefully as she looked down, turned her rings, once.

‘He had to go back to Stratford early on Monday. We – we didn’t get a chance to talk, to discuss things, he won’t be home till the weekend.’

Joseph looked almost annoyed.

‘Come on Pauline, this is the chance of a lifetime, for both of you.’

Pauline sighed. ‘We had an argument.’

‘After the garden party?’

‘During the garden party.’

‘Oh dear. Those successful things must be hell to organise.’

‘No, no I like it. Oh—’ Pauline who never ever spoke about her personal life to anyone, felt trapped. ‘The thing is – there was so much to do afterwards, clearing up and the odd person stayed and stayed, you know how it is, and Anthony passed out – he’d had a fight with Benedict—’

‘I saw that, very classy of that young hippie guy to stop it all I thought.’

‘Yes,’ said Pauline shortly. ‘Anyway – Anthony passed out, I slept in the spare room, I was at the shop before he woke, he was gone before I got back. So we haven’t talked about it actually, no.’ Pauline spoke coolly but Joseph saw it was agony for her to even discuss this. He frowned.

‘We don’t want domestic battles getting in the way of this, it’s too important.’

Pauline said nothing, looked down.

The waiter brought oysters, bowed slightly, left.

‘You’re not – excuse me for prying like this – in the middle of a marriage break-up or anything?’

Pauline picked up a fork, popped an oyster in her mouth; in a moment her composure was completely regained. ‘Joseph, I make it a rule never, never to talk about my personal life but I will make an exception with you – in the circumstances,’ and she smiled at him. She knew how important this conversation was. ‘You’re married Joseph, I expect you know how it is.’ She presumed he was still married.

Joseph Wain did not answer, waited.