‘What? I… no… I…’ Lucas slowly put down the couple of envelopes and bits of paper he had extracted from the bag, doing his best not to look bemused. Their divergent views on the Almighty had never mattered before; but perhaps, he told himself, something had shifted with the date of the wedding now fixed. ‘Heidi, sweetheart, I could say yes, but it would only be to appease you, and that would be wrong, surely. I don’t believe in anything except the science of life,’ he went on more gently, ‘and humans doing their best to keep the planet safe and treat each other decently. You know that. I have never made any secret of it.’

‘But, Lucas, don’t you maybe even wish there were something more?’

There was real desperation in her voice. Lucas stared back helplessly, tempted, despite everything, to give a little ground. He wanted her happiness so badly, partly because of loving her, but mostly because it made her more loving towards him. ‘I think everything about the existence of mankind is wondrous,’ he ventured. ‘I just do not believe there is a god of any kind behind it… which will in no way stop me being knocked sideways by the power of our wedding ceremony,’ he rushed on, as her expression had tightened.

‘Claire Moore and I had a very interesting conversation.’

‘About me, no doubt,’ Lucas said, bitterness creeping into his voice.

Heidi widened her eyes disparagingly. ‘Among other things. Not everything is about you, you know, Lucas. She seems such a good person. In fact, I think you were very lucky that she was there for all the trouble with poor Moira.’

Lucas felt something like a small electric shock pass down his spine. ‘Poor?’ He kept his tone level.

‘Yes. Moira is a victim.’

Lucas waited, his mouth drying. Heidi had retrieved her backpack from the chair where he had dropped it and was fiddling with its zip. ‘Of me?’ he prompted at last, in a deathly voice.

‘Of a patriarchal society, of which you too are a product.’

He laughed softly. ‘Oh, Lord, here we go.’

She had pulled the toggle out of her long hair and was refixing it, with quick angry fingers, back into a ponytail – a much tighter one that managed to pull yet more severity into her already savage expression.

‘Well, my goodness…’ Lucas laughed again, sharply this time. ‘How good to hear what you have really been thinking all these weeks, darling. Perhaps it was you, not Moira’s father, who spoke to the papers.’

‘Stop it, Lucas. That is stupid. Of course, I would never do such a thing. You are misinterpreting.’

‘Okay. Good. So, tell me, what did you mean, exactly?’ He perched on the back of an armchair, digging deep for a tone of reasoned, amicable enquiry.

‘I mean, Lucas, that you have tried to shut out the implications of what happened with Moira Giddings.’