Sally had been quite happy to be the object of Jomier’s researches. So had other Sallys since. Such as Tilly. Tilly 1. In thinking about Tilly, Jomier distinguishes between Tilly 1 and Tilly 2 – Tilly 1 being the Tilly he loved and courted and married and who was happy, like Sally, to be the object of his attentions; and Tilly 2, the sly Tilly who never rejected or deflected his attentions but had her mind on other things – on Max and when she would next see him and how much she would rather she was having sex with him. Most of Jomier’s current thoughts are about Tilly 2 and they are ugly – prima facie evidence of misogyny. But there are times when they give way to memories of Tilly 1 – a different person, a girl young and fresh and loving whose face lit up when she saw him and laughed at the silliest of his jokes. They had met at a party and started talking and became so engrossed in their conversation that others in the circle had drifted away. What was the topic? Forgotten. The first kiss? On the Thames Embankment after a concert at the Festival Hall. He had issued the invitation. She had accepted. Both keen to be thought cultured. Later revelations: they both preferred movies. Hollywood pap at the Kensington Odeon: the smell of popcorn as they came in from the autumn urban mist. Or French mysteries at the Gate cinema in Notting Hill. Or any old film at that old music hall, the Coronet – with supper afterwards at the Ark or Costa’s Grill.

Jomier feels sad when he thinks of Tilly 1. He mourns. He grieves. He thinks back to the first time they made love and remembers only that he remembered nothing: there was no ‘other’ to observe. ‘This at last is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh!’ Adam’s cry when he was presented with Eve. Jomier’s inward exclamation when he had first made love with Tilly. Tilly 1.