‘Well?’ he said.

‘Well what?’

‘You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you, Wilde? I knew you would.’

‘Am I that obvious?’

‘Let’s just say we both know each other pretty well, old boy. The good and the bad bits, perhaps.’ He lowered his voice. ‘How has Mrs Wilde taken the news – or haven’t you broken it to her yet?’

‘Actually, it was Lydia who persuaded me I should take it on.’

‘Then good on her.’

‘Wonderful the effect a couple of pairs of nylons can have.’

‘Very funny. But if she really has moved your position, then perhaps we could take our coffee in the garden. Sorry to be a nuisance, Wilde, but could you give me a hand. My damned leg really plays up some days, and this is one of them.’

‘The garden? I suppose you believe our house is bugged.’

‘I have to tell you things which are extremely sensitive.’

‘Tea, Philip?’ Lydia said, as her husband guided their guest into the garden.

‘Oh God, yes,’ Wilde said. ‘I clean forgot – we’re out of coffee.’

‘Tea would be delightful, Mrs Wilde. And how was the film?’

‘Lovely, but Judy didn’t sing at all.’ She suddenly laughed. ‘Oh, Philip, we’ve known each other the best part of a decade – can’t we move on to first names? You and Tom are like a pair of snotty prep school boys. Infantile major and Ridiculous minor.’

Wilde and Eaton looked at each other questioningly. ‘I think she might be right,’ Wilde said.

‘Yes, I think she probably is . . . Tom. Can I call you that?’

‘At last!’ Lydia laughed. ‘The Edwardian age is finally dead and buried. Welcome to the twentieth century, boys.’

‘And am I correct in thinking you are signed up for a medical degree?’

‘Well, not quite, but I’ve applied and it all seems possible so far.’

‘Given up on the poetry publishing business, eh?’

‘I don’t think there’s much call for poetry volumes at the moment, Philip. So hopefully Barts beckons. My father worked there, which means I’m banking on them taking that into account. Nepotism goes a long way. A lot will depend on the movements of darling Tom and the hiring of a reliable nanny, of course. We’re not keen on the idea of a boarding school for a five-year-old. Oh, and my esteemed husband and master has given me his permission to begin my studies. What a lucky girl I am!’

‘More fool him, Lydia. All those handsome young doctors . . .’

Wilde groaned. ‘As if the esteemed husband would ever have any say in the matter!’ He knew this refrain by heart. Medicine was something she had wanted to do for six years, but pregnancy, motherhood and the war had conspired against her. Now, with the boy ready for school and the war over, he owed it to her to do everything in his power to ease the path. There would be plenty of others after places, of course – demobbed officers set on a vocation that had been put on hold. Still, even with all the walls to break down she must be in with a chance, and she had been assiduously reading the latest edition of Black’s Medical Dictionary in her spare moments.