Only after they have moved on to a dessert of stale mince pies, and the children have retreated to watch CBeebies on the television, do they talk about Wiltshire and Venice and Courchevel. Henry is reticent about Wiltshire. ‘All very comfortable.’ Max’s sister Lydia had been there with her husband and children. Max has converted one outbuilding into a giant playroom with a billiard table and another into a mini-cinema with a Bluetooth DVD player and 56-inch plasma TV. Henry had called Louisa on Christmas Day and again on New Year’s Day from Courchevel. ‘She said she hadn’t been well.’

‘It’s all those pisco sours and the dulce de leche,’ says Jomier.

‘No doubt,’ says Henry. ‘Or perhaps it was just flu.’

Jomier wonders why Louisa had said nothing to him about being ill when he called her from the Hotel Palazzo Solaia. Perhaps she had sickened after Christmas. Should he have called her on New Year’s Day?

‘And Venice?’ asks Henry. ‘How was it?’ He puts the question cautiously – almost reluctantly – and, as he asks it, Sandra turns away. Neither wants to hear about sexagenarian sex.

‘We had to walk on duckboards to reach our hotel,’ says Jomier.

‘It was flooded?’

‘On the first day. We upgraded.’

‘To the Danieli?’

‘No, to a hotel called the Palazzo Solaia: but it was good.’

‘Expensive?’ asks Henry.

Jomier shrugs. ‘You get what you pay for.’

‘Not always.’

‘In this case, I’d say we did. The Christmas dinner was good.’

Jomier does not want to talk about the costs of the Hotel Palazzo Solaia because it reminds him of his spreadsheet and Judith’s froideur. He describes the wonderful art galleries and churches and scuole; the Christmas markets, the tucked-away restaurants, midnight Mass in St Mark’s. ‘And we got on so well,’ he adds, ‘that we decided to move in together when we got back.’

Silence. Sandra looks at Henry. Henry says: ‘That’s wonderful.’ He says this but does he mean it? Jomier’s son sounds like a politician caught off guard. Then: ‘Will you get married?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so. It hasn’t come to that as yet.’

‘Will you move in with her,’ asks Sandra, ‘or will she move in with you?’

‘The idea,’ says Jomier, ‘is to pool our resources. Sell our houses and buy a new one together.’

Again Sandra looks at her husband. What are the ramifications? What’s the downside for us? Henry does not meet her glance. He is trying hard to think of what will make his father happy. ‘I am really pleased,’ he says. ‘She really seems to suit you and it can’t be easy . . .’ His voice tails off.

‘To commit at our age?’ suggests Jomier.

‘Yes, I suppose that’s what I meant. Once bitten, twice shy.’

‘One values companionship as one grows older,’ says Jomier.

‘Of course,’ says Henry.

‘And what about her children?’ asks Sandra.