Women were so tricky, especially women like Azra. Passive-­aggressive, laying traps, festering. I was guilty of this myself. Men were such simple creatures. The bitterness I felt towards Greg had long since faded and I started to feel nostalgic for the old days of our marriage. At the same time, my long-suppressed resentment of Azra was working its way to the surface, like shrapnel from an ancient wound. Our flare-ups became more and more frequent.

‘Do you think you should?’ she said one day.

‘Should what?’

‘Open that second bottle.’

‘Everyone’s drinking too much,’ I snapped. ‘Next week we might be on ventilators.’

‘It’s just that—oh, never mind.’

‘What do you mean, never mind?’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Look, it’s my liver.’

She paused. ‘It’s not that.’

‘What is it then?’

She stood up. ‘Forget it.’

‘For God’s sake, Azra, spit it out.’

She walked towards the bedroom, our only refuge.

‘Azra!’

She turned, her hand on the doorknob. ‘All right.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Pru, but you know we always go half-and-half, at the shops?’

I nodded.

‘Well, you might be able to buy stuff without a second thought,’ she said, ‘but I can’t. I haven’t got your sort of money. And, to be perfectly frank, I can’t afford to sub your wine habit.’

I reddened. ‘I’m so stupid. Sorry.’ I jumped up and hugged her. ‘Everything’s so surreal nowadays, I’ve completely forgotten about, you know …’

‘You know what?’

‘That I’ve just sold a house. It’s like another world. And money’s become strangely meaningless.’

She loosened herself from my arms. ‘Only people who’ve got it can say that.’

I said that from now on I should pay for the shopping. She promptly agreed.

I remember being surprised but told myself that I had the funds and Azra didn’t. However, it marked a subtle shift in our relationship. I don’t think Azra noticed this, but I found myself growing more and more resentful about the past. As I said, we hadn’t discussed her affair with Greg—it remained unspoken between us—but I’d find myself watching her with hostility as she sat at her sewing machine stitching yet more masks. YOU were that silent retreat in Rutland, weren’t you? Did you concoct that story together? Maybe had a laugh? ‘Let’s think of the most unlikely county in England!’ Wasn’t I an idiot, to think he was working on his spiritual enlightenment!

I’d always felt protective of Azra. Once, in her actress days, I overheard another actor murmur, ‘I can’t work with that woman, she’s a total nightmare.’ I remember bristling on Azra’s behalf. Now I was living with her, I could see his point.

Maybe I was just as difficult. I certainly had a difficult cat.