‘A lot of people would be glad to have a daughter like Margaret,’ I said. Oops—wrong thing to say. I was getting tired.

‘They wouldn’t if they had to live with her,’ said Monica sharply. ‘You’ve no idea what a strain it is. She just moons about like a dying duck and she makes no attempt to do anything for herself. I have to think of everything.’

She sounded overwrought. Any minute now she’d lose her temper or burst into tears. I said: ‘You’re worried aren’t you?’ By this time, you see, I felt sorry for her. I really did.

‘Oh yes,’ she said, wearily. ‘I’m worried. I’ll be glad when the wedding’s over, only...’

‘What?’ I asked.

Monica stirred in her chair. ‘I don’t know if she’s ready. I don’t know…I’ve never discussed anything with her. I haven’t...’

Enlightenment broke upon me. Of course Margaret would have told her mother nothing of the ratty little Nour. ‘You don’t think she’s a virgin, do you?’ I cried, wishing simultaneously that I had not, for the events in Egypt, from what little I had gathered, must remain forever shrouded in secrecy or else there would be the most unholy brouhaha and I would get the blame for being indiscreet.

Happily Monica’s stupidity came to my aid. She gasped like a goldfish. ‘Lili, you don’t think Syl...’

I said in my relief, ‘Darling, you can be so stupid sometimes...’ there was a sound from the kitchen and we both listened. ‘It was nothing,’ I said. ‘There’s nobody there. No, I just meant—is she a virgin? I didn’t mean she wasn’t. I don’t think Syl would sully his bride, do you?’

Monica looked doubtful. ‘Oh look here, Monica,’ I said, ‘we all know what Syl was like, but that was years ago. He must have grown up a bit since then.’ I was not being frank. I saw no reason to suppose that Syl had changed at all. Why should he have? I hadn’t. If he hadn’t slept with Margaret I bet it wasn’t his fault. On the other hand it was just possible...‘If he is truly in love,’ I said with my tongue in cheek, ‘he will respect Margaret, will he not?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Monica, and from her tone I gathered that that was not really what was worrying her. It was something else. ‘I sometimes wonder,’ said Monica, ‘whether she’ll ever grow up.’

Robert was rather alarmingly quiet. He had been since he arrived. Quiet and polite. I didn’t like the signs. He was seldom openly angry with me, for when he was I got angry too and that was dangerous. I don’t mean I’d have killed him, but when two people lose their tempers one of them always says more than she intends because one of them—at least—feels she must win at all costs, and I have a reckless streak. It is an important part of my character and I cannot erase it, but I like to keep it under control. Robert called it ‘showing off’ because he’d been taught in school to despise spontaneity. He was hitting the top of a boiled egg with an egg spoon in a concentrated, silent sort of fashion. It made me nervous.