“David got a smashing notice in the Telegraph,” and I suddenly realized what her arrival implied: she had come to be consoled for her bad reviews. I had paid very little attention to the morning papers; indeed, I had seen only two of them, but in both there had been inauspicious mentions of Sophy’s lack of experience and inadequate technique, and as these two papers were the civilized ones, I could well guess what those daily headline drama critics who pride themselves on the annihilating phrase might have found to say.

“Oh, really?” I said. “I haven’t seen any of the papers yet,” and I started to punch the nappies up and down to emphasize that I had no time for the press. I had already told her at the party how wonderful and marvellous I had thought she was, and I did not want to go through all that again. Her depression upset me: it is so unmistakable, the misery of wanting nothing but success and not getting it. I wondered what mechanism of defence she had set in action, but she hardly seemed to have got into her stride. She talked for a little about what people had said the night before and the dress Natalie had been wearing, and as she talked I remembered all the shades of disappointment I had been forced to witness before, ranging from the pathetic, through the crude and brusque, to the violent. Eventually she came out with it.

“You’d hardly believe it,” she said, “but do you know what the Clarion said about Felicity? It said her performance was a masterpiece of comic invention. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? Honestly, Felicity—I think she’s the world’s worst, don’t you?”

“I didn’t think she was very good,” I said warily, paying close attention to my task.

“No, honestly, Emma, she really is bloody awful, if you ask me. All that arm-waving, and did you see that fantastic make-up she was wearing? That puce lipstick she wears makes her face look bright blue on stage, it really does.”

“Well, it is a character part, after all,” I said.

“Yes, I know it is, but there’s no need to look more hideous than you can help, is there? David thinks she’s awful, he told me so himself.”

“He thinks most people are awful.”

“Do you think so? I think he’s the only nice person in the company. He’s the only person who ever has a good word to say for anyone, if you ask me. Everyone else is just mean and boring. You are lucky, having a husband like him.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Is he in at the moment? Could I see him, do you think?”