‘There’s nothing we can do about it,’ protested Wilkes. ‘She got cancelled. It was decided.’

‘By who?’ roared George.

‘By social media!’

‘Oh, fuck social media! And fuck all the morons who spend their time on it. That bloody tortoise has more insight into the world than any of those miserable trolls do.’

‘George, your blood pressure,’ said Beverley.

‘Well, I mean to say,’ he replied, sounding utterly fed up now, ‘I’ve heard some stupid things in recent times, but this one takes the biscuit, it really does. I don’t know which is worse, that you think you either have the power or the moral right to, in your words, cancel another human being, or that you think that normal, sensible people would play along with your idiocy? Cancelled! It’s actually offensive to the ear even hearing such a word spoken aloud. The … the … the …’ He struggled to complete his sentence, but with each utterance of the word the, the other occupants of the room sat forward a little, waiting to see where he went with it. ‘The … the … the insufferable arrogance,’ he spat out finally. ‘The unspeakable superciliousness! The grotesque sense of moral superiority!’

‘All right, George,’ said Beverley, sitting back again and sipping her wine. ‘You’ve made your point. Chillax, darling.’

‘I will not chillax, whatever that means. And I don’t think I have made my point. Not if this pair of numbskulls fail to recognize the truth of what I’m saying.’

‘Your father’s right,’ said Beverley. ‘The whole idea is ridiculous.’

‘So you think I shouldn’t go?’ asked Elizabeth, hopefully.

‘Of course I think that. And, while we’re on the subject, I think you should stop associating with this … this creature,’ she said, nodding in the direction of Wilkes. ‘You can do far better for yourself.’

‘We are in the room, you know,’ said Wilkes, looking across at her with a wounded expression on his face.

‘I know. I can smell you.’

‘But I appreciate him,’ insisted Elizabeth. ‘Them.’

‘And I appreciate a glass of wine after a hard day of reviewing my ghost’s writing, but I don’t want to set up home with one. You’ve had much nicer boyfriends in the past. And you’ll have much nicer ones in the future too.’

‘No, I haven’t,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Gareth was too insecure. David had too much of a temper. Nick was too bisexual. Conor was only after my money. Tuscany was too self-centred. Pylyp was too boring. Will was—’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Beverley, sitting up, fully alert now. ‘Philip? You said Philip, yes? I don’t remember a Philip.’

‘No, Pylyp,’ said Elizabeth. ‘That guy you danced with when you were on Strictly, remember? Oh, I never told you about him and me, did I? We had a bit of a thing.’

Beverley shook her head slowly, unable to speak.