Jomier recalls that enticement was a crime until the 1970s: a man could be prosecuted for suborning another man’s wife. Should it still be a crime? Jomier thinks of Max and says yes. And adultery? Jomier thinks of the weekend with Sandra and thinks no. Theodor remains non-committal. When it comes to enticement and adultery, Theodor knows that Jomier has an axe to grind. He knows about Sandra and Tilly and Max. Theodor could write a doctoral thesis on Jomier’s lovelife since his was the shoulder Jomier cried on at the time. Theodor listens but does not condemn. He is like a priest in the confessional. Jomier often wonders why he is not a priest. He has put the question to Theodor. ‘I’m not up to it.’ What does he mean? That he has some secret vice? That he is too fond of Mammon – of adding zeros to the digits in his hedge-fund account? He presses Theodor. Theodor gives a laugh instead of an answer. Jomier presses him further. ‘Dominus non sum dignus . . .’ ‘Lord, I am not worthy.’ Theodor often drops phrases in liturgical Latin, or illustrates a point with a Latin quip. Mea culpa, mens rea, nota bene: Latin – the language for priests and pedants and lawyers and fogeys just as German is the language for highbrows and French the language for sex.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It is half-term. Jomier is telephoned by his son Henry to ask for help with Jomier’s three-year-old grandson Ned. Tracey, the Australian nanny, is to take Samantha to a play-date in Knightsbridge and Alena, the Slovakian au pair, has to go to her language course in Ealing.

‘What about your mother?’ asks Jomier.

‘She can’t. She has things to do.’ Jomier, Henry knows, does not have things to do.