But she would bring it up with him very carefully, since he had not yet mentioned the new series himself. Of course they had hardly exchanged a word since she’d found him and Molly panting at each other in his study and to think that Molly had had the nerve to come here, try to talk about all that, as if it was over and I almost believed her. Jesus I even thought we might – Pauline quickly poured herself another large vodka; she would go on to Campari automatically when she heard her husband’s car arriving, as she always did.

So when he came home from Stratford the weekend after the garden party she was sitting up waiting for him, drinking Campari. He was tired and wanted a big drink and in particular didn’t want a late night conversation with his wife although they had not really spoken to each other, except quick telephone calls about business and family matters, for a week.

She poured him a large whisky, patted the sofa beside her.

‘Come and sit down Tony, you’ll never never guess what’s just starting on BBC2, Nicola Abbott’s only film Heartache, the BBC must be beside themselves with self-congratulation, what wonderfully coincidental timing!’

He came and sat beside her on the sofa, looked at the screen with curiosity. ‘The press have been on to me all week, asking me again about the reunion,’ he complained, ‘because of the stabbing. Why can’t Terence do things quietly without involving us – my God doesn’t Nicky look young!’

The young Nicky Abbott was mesmerising.

Although they’d both seen the film when they were young they were both completely silent, engrossed. Anthony put his arm round Pauline’s shoulders and she shifted slightly to lean against him. It was the story of a young girl who had been adopted, trying to find her real mother: well-made but old-fashioned now. Harry Donaldson had a small part in it too, playing someone older than himself with a not very good wig. But Nicky’s performance, the big eyes and the voice that nobody forgot, hadn’t dated at all.

When the credits rolled they both realised the other was crying, and laughed.

‘Oh she could act!’ said Pauline wiping her eyes. ‘She was wonderful. What could have happened to her, all these years?’

‘Jesus Pauly, I thought it was her at the reunion and then I thought I must be wrong, I didn’t check properly, what a mistake, I’d have loved to talk to her again.’ He blew his nose, then stretched and yawned. ‘Remember when you and I and Nicky and Terence went and did that performance from the Academy of – what was it? – at that Shaw Festival in Scotland, you remember?’