He wondered why she was so keen on finding out.

‘We’re not courting really, just friends. I’ve known her a long time. But you know that.’

He wanted to ask her about Jack. Why was she dancing with him?

‘Pinnicky, that one.’

‘What?’

‘Gets her knickers in a twist. Oh, I don’t mind her, she’s all right. Don’t think she cares much for me.’

‘Oh no—’ he started to say but Muriel dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

‘Too good for the likes of me, she is. Maybe for you too.’ He became aware of her eyes on him. ‘What about you then? Go on. I don’t believe the service was completely dull. You don’t want to tell me, do you?’ She was appraising him, her head slightly to one side, trying to work something out.

‘What is it?’

‘You look different. Older.’

‘Do I?’ He laughed awkwardly. With some relief he heard the door creak open and a blast of bright light and music fell on them both.

He was slow to turn, dulled by the uncomfortable penetration of Muriel’s gaze. He thought she wanted to say more to him but it was too late now.

‘There you are… Oh, hello, Muriel.’ Verity was framed in the doorway, half in obscurity, half in brightness, her face shining.

The three of them stood still, and then all at once they moved and spoke at the same time. Muriel took off the jacket, handed it to Arthur and skipped back; Verity stepped forward and took her place on the step. Arthur was left hovering, holding his jacket.

‘She’s after you, you know,’ said Verity, lighting up a cigarette.

‘What? Muriel?’

‘Yes, you dozy thing, Muriel.’ She ruffled his hair and his scalp prickled. She gave him one of her indulgent smiles. ‘It’s glorious, isn’t it?’ she said, and stubbed out her cigarette with her heel. She took his hand, pulling him down off the porch into the garden. ‘Come with me.’ Her eyes were white in the twilit haze. He glanced back. Watching from the doorway was Muriel. She gave him a little wave and turned towards the ballroom. A figure came towards her from the shadows, but Verity was tugging on his hand and he was forced to look away.

‘Look,’ Verity said. ‘There.’ He saw that her finger was pointing above the bush. In the peach glow of the twilight, hundreds of moths were twirling, criss-crossing each other, their wings flickering light, fluttering like the girls’ dresses inside. The sky above them hung like a swollen parachute waiting to collapse and he detected a faint smell of swimming pool chlorine. They watched the moths as he ran his fingers along the veins in her wrist. He felt Muriel’s gaze tingle on the back of his neck. A faint rumble of thunder came from away towards the coast.