‘Are you quite sure you want to do this?’ said Harry.

‘Quite sure,’ said Pauline coolly as they walked towards the big front door, ‘and don’t introduce me in my married name. You can rely on me, I won’t rush in and cry FATHER and throw my arms around him.’

Harry grinned, but still felt trepidation. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘He’s expecting me, and a friend. I phoned to ask if it was suitable.’ He rang the bell. Pauline stood beside him, her eyes hooded and expressionless.

Mrs Beale welcomed them. And the old man was waiting for them expectantly, hovering around the reception hall, under the large painting of Beerbohm Tree as Macbeth. His white hair shone and he’d put on a suit and he smiled with pleasure.

‘Dear boy,’ he said, holding out his hand to Harry, ‘I couldn’t be more delighted, how lovely of you to return.’

‘I wanted to introduce you to a good friend of mine,’ said Harry. ‘This is Pauline O’Brien, we were at drama school together.’

‘Roger Popham,’ said the old man putting out his hand in turn to Pauline. ‘Delighted to meet you my dear, any friend of this young man is a friend of mine. I’ve asked for tea in the garden, if you don’t think it too late for afternoon tea, the weather is still so lovely. Won’t you come outside, I’ll lead the way, shall I, make it easier.’

Pauline had turned quite pale in her elegant cream suit, stood there for a moment on the red carpet looking after the old man as he slowly led the way into the garden still talking animatedly to Harry. Wouldn’t he have known her name? Surely he remembered her mother and her stepfather. She heard the word Noël float back across the big lounge. In a corner an old woman sat weeping very quietly; Mummy, she murmured, Mummy, wiping away tears with what looked like a tea towel.

‘Come on Pauly,’ called Harry over his shoulder.

In the garden, tea was brought, not from the wagon but on a special tray; the old man had ordered it specially, paid for it specially. Pauline offered to pour, her hand was shaking. She looked covertly at Roger Popham, yes you could tell he had been good-looking, and he was tall like her. She was amazed no one could hear her heart. She even wished for a moment she’d brought her mother. But it was after three o’clock and Mrs O’Brien would be passed out by now, quietly snoring.

As she passed him his tea she said more abruptly than she’d meant to, ‘Tell me about the circus Mr Popham.’

He looked at her. ‘Of course Harry must have appraised you of my adventures,’ he said. ‘I travelled for years with the Great Zelda Brothers’ Circus, all over Europe.’

‘I came to see you once,’ said Pauline.