‘I’ve never known such a miserable bride,’ she went on, standing back and looking at me with some affection, but more disapproval. ‘What’s the matter with you?

This was the first time she had admitted openly that all was not well; and I was forced to reassure her, for otherwise she might find herself in sympathy with me, size might come to my side, and this was unthinkable, for to be understood by her was a prospect beyond endurance.

‘I am only cold,’ I said. ‘It is cold after Egypt.’ And dark, I thought. Dark, dark.

My mother wasn’t one for silences. As she pulled the dress over my head she said that she thought it would still fit her, that she could see the hole at the neckline where my grandmother had pinned a pearl brooch as something old, that the classic line never dated. Moved by an ancient sentiment as she cradled the dress, so that it lolled in her arms like someone drowned, she said that she was glad she had a daughter to wear it; and I said, politely, that I could see it must be a pleasing economy.

My mother couldn’t refute this without venturing further into sentiment, and this she would not do.

‘I had a letter from Lili this morning,’ she said. ‘They’re back in England.’

I was silent, for the news meant nothing to me.

‘She saw the announcement in The Times,’ continued my mother.

As I was still silent she went on, ‘You must remember Lili. She was my bridesmaid.’

‘I don’t remember her,’ I said, but I lied. I remembered her now. It was a small shock to know that the neglected image in my mind was real, that she lived and breathed, read The Times and wrote letters to her old friends.

‘I shall ask her to stay for the wedding,’ said my mother. ‘Her and Robert.’

Suddenly I remembered Robert too. A man behind Lili. A bearded, shapeless man in brown and purple woollens. A painter.

‘He’s an artist,’ said my mother. ‘It’s years since I’ve seen them. They stayed in Egypt. Lili’s father was tremendously rich until the government sequestered all his property. If I’d thought, you could have stayed with them, but I don’t suppose you’d have learned much French.’

I hadn’t. I had learned very little, but my mother had no means of testing me. I had learned other things.

***