‘Is it difficult for you, to live in a small home with your wife, when her family has a lot of money?’

‘If he says so. Whatever, right?’

Karen nodded, and smiled, and translated. Dufour shrugged, and then said something with the word Adamson in it. That was a relief.

‘What did you think of Alex?’

‘I’ve told you. He was OK. A bit weak.’

Dufour sat forward, and said one word.

‘Weak?’ translated Karen.

Dufour sneered something that Dan didn’t like, even before he heard the English.

‘He says: is it unfair that you are not weak, and you have nothing, and Alex was a drug addict and had a lot of money?’

Dan sighed and shrugged, again, like he was bored. He was doing all right, but he needed to not look at Dufour’s face.

‘We don’t “have nothing”. We’re fine.’

‘He says: did you resent Alex?’

‘No.’

‘You weren’t jealous?’

‘Nope.’

‘Do you resent your wife?’

‘What?’

‘Do you resent her for not being rich, like her family?’

‘No,’ he said. He rubbed his hands over his face and head. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘We agreed, early on, that Bea doesn’t ask her parents for money and that’s fine by me.’ Like a nervous tic, he saw the private jet again, hovering, and blinked it away. Quite deliberately, he pictured Bea, with her arms held out, smiling. He imagined her taking his hand, and her flame tattoo, as if he were lifting her hair to kiss it.

Dufour asked him a question. Karen, drinking water from her plastic cup, put it down impatiently. Her translation was deliberately expressionless and flat, to show what she thought of the question.

‘He says: you saw her father’s picture in the paper, and how rich he is, and that’s why you married her.’

‘He said that?’ said Dan. ‘That’s not even a question.’

Karen said something to Dufour, who made an irritated noise, and leaned across the desk. He spoke nastily. Close up, his face was even worse. Dan almost didn’t need Karen’s translation.

‘He says: was that why you married her?’

Dan smiled into Dufour’s eyes. ‘No, mate, that’s not why I married her.’ He was amazed how calm he felt, calm and uninhibited. ‘I married her because she’s matchless,’ said Dan. ‘The woman is matchless.’

‘Matchless?’ said Karen.

‘Outstanding,’ said Dan.

Karen smiled. She blushed. She wasn’t gay. Dufour said something else, and she set her mouth, disapprovingly.

‘He says: but she is not your type.’

Dan scratched his cheek, to give the impression of being mildly surprised, as if it had never occurred to him that he and Bea weren’t an obvious fit in the eyes of the world, and he was mulling it over.

‘Huh,’ he said, nodding. ‘OK.’

‘He says: your wife is – what’s the right word? Frumpy.’