That one display of emotion had been as shocking and strange as if she’d suddenly taken all her clothes off. She had kept out of my way for months afterwards and I hadn’t sought her out. Derek had returned, for I saw him several times and found it difficult to think of much to say to him. Eventually he left for good. I had no idea how the divorce went through, but Monica and the child stayed in the house and gradually we began to see her again—at the tennis club and in neighbours’ houses. She never mentioned that naked night, and I certainly did not. There is fortunately a mechanism in us which works like the gate of a lock, interrupting and blocking the flow of memory, of immediate awareness. Once the gates are closed, although we know the water is there and it is still the same, we can disregard it, think of it as past and, often, forget it. This, I suppose, is what Monica did: put out of her mind the bad things drifting and floating behind the gates, and drove resolutely onwards, refusing even to acknowledge their existence.

Syl was late getting home. I heard him whistling in the hail and called out to him.

‘Not in bed yet?’ he said.

‘No,’ I said. When you have lived with someone for a long time, no matter who he is, this seems to be the sort of conversation you make. I asked if he had had a pleasant day and he said he had. Then, since it was his turn, he asked if I had had a pleasant tea with Margaret and Lili.

‘Very nice,’ I said. ‘There’s some cake in the pantry. Or do you want some soup?’

‘I’ve eaten,’ said Syl. ‘Went to the pub in the city.’

‘Who with?’ I asked.

‘Just a bloke,’ said Syl. He looked at me sideways and grinned.

‘Bloke?’ I said. ‘What was he like?’ Syl seldom whistled when he came home from dining with a bloke.

‘He was a nice little blonde from the office,’ said Syl.

‘You’re nearly a married man,’ I said. ‘It’s time you settled down.’

‘I’m going to, Mum,’ said Syl. ‘Honestly.’