And now? Jomier sits in an armchair in the corner of the room, talking politely to Tessa, mother of Tatty, and other friends of Sandra and Henry. Every now and then he looks at Tilly. He avoids meeting her eyes. She avoids meeting his. She does not talk to the other adults but busies herself with the children. She is the one to pour out the orange juice. She is the one to organise the musical bumps. Why so assiduous? Why does she put herself out for Henry in a way she did for Jomier only in the first years of their married life? Jomier remarked on this phenomenon when they were still married – the gradual shift of loyalty from husband to son. Was it a symptom of her general disenchantment with marriage? He then remarked upon the same phenomenon in other marriages and understood. Women are all over their husbands and boyfriends until they have had children. Once the inseminator has served his purpose, they look to the future. The husband may still provide for the mother and her brood; his substance is eaten like the flesh of the male mate of the praying mantis. But it is the son, not the husband, who will be around when she is old and frail.

All this was a long time ago. When Tilly’s eyes do meet Jomier’s, as they must on occasion, this is what they express: ‘It was all a long time ago.’ The acceptance of this formula is meant to lead to civility, even friendliness, between Jomier, Tilly, Max and Jane. But Jomier does not accept the concept behind the formula – that time heals all. The man who is crippled because his wife pushed him down the stairs remains crippled even if he accepts that she was provoked by his slap of her face. Jomier remains crippled. He still suffers. He cannot look at Tilly’s elegant legs without thinking of them parting for the loins of her hirsute lover.

Jomier looks around at Henry and Sandra’s friends – men beginning to grow paunchy and bald; women starting to look used and tired. Do any of them have lovers? Probably not. They are from a different generation. They married later in life – wild oats scattered, curiosity satisfied, youthful passion spent. They expect fidelity once the commitment is made but feel no jealousy of former boyfriends. Their lovelife is linear. The exes are among their friends. No tormenting visions of fellatio and cunnilingus for Tony as he chats to Ted; no thought that the same tongue that now licks the cream smudged from an oozing eclair onto Ted’s knuckle once slithered between the labia minora and labia majora of Jessica, his wife.