‘As I understand it,’ said Beverley with a sigh, ‘Wokeness is about creating a fairer and more equal society.’

‘It might have started out like that,’ replied George, looking downcast. ‘At the beginning, its heart was in the right place. But now it’s about nothing more than tearing people down, stalking them on social media and, if they can get away with it, destroying the lives of strangers. Usually successful strangers, I might add. I’ve spent my entire life trying to be a decent, honourable man, and look where it’s got me. You know, earlier today, some lunatic posted an eighteen-tweet-thread about what a monster I am. A man who’s never even met me and yet presumes to know everything about me.’

‘Yes, but someone like that has mental health issues. Why give him the time of day?’

‘That doesn’t make it any easier. It’s cruel, Beverley. It’s bullying. Nothing more, nothing less.’

‘George, you’re not … you’re not crying, are you?’

He shook his head and wiped his eyes, surprised to find that he was. ‘It hurts, that’s all. It really fucking hurts. These people have no decency.’

Beverley breathed in heavily through her nose. ‘You don’t think that you bear some responsibility for all of this, though, do you? You are the common denominator, after all.’

George shrugged. He was too tired to argue. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I’m just getting too old to be let loose on the world. Everything I say seems to offend someone. When all I’m actually trying to do is help.’

‘But you’re helping the wrong way.’

He smiled. ‘Someone else said that to me a while ago.’

‘Who?’

‘Oh, just someone at the Beeb.’ He thought about this for a moment and then his face took on a look of horror. ‘Oh shit,’ he said.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Beverley.

‘What time is it?’

She glanced at her watch. ‘Nearly half past ten,’ she said.

‘Damn.’

‘All the blood has drained from your face.’

‘I was supposed to make a phone call, that’s all. Before close of play. It went completely out of my mind.’

‘Something important?’

‘Someone important.’

‘Who?’

George looked at his wife and considered his answer carefully.

‘Nobody,’ he said.

They both turned around as they heard the sound of the front door opening and Elizabeth walked into the living room.

‘And what’s the matter with you?’ asked George.

‘I broke up with Wilkes.’

George kept his features entirely still. ‘How terrible,’ he said. ‘He seemed like a keeper. I am distraught.’

‘Oh, darling,’ said Beverley, standing up, giving her a hug and pouring her a glass of wine. ‘It really is for the best. How did he take it? Was he terribly upset?’

‘Absolutely devastated,’ said Elizabeth. ‘He turned on the waterworks, of course. It was like Niagara Falls pouring down his cheeks.’

‘Well, it’s a bit of a wash, at least.’

‘But I held firm. I told him that my mind was made up and we shouldn’t be sorry that it was over; instead, we should be happy that it happened.’