‘Shall we all get very drunk?’ suggested Lili.

‘There’s no need for that,’ said my mother. ‘Margaret is merely suffering from pre-wedding nerves. She should have an early night.’

‘Why don’t we take her out to dinner?’ said Lili. ‘I’ll drive us to Soho.’

‘We’ve just got back from Southampton,’ said my mother, as though this circumstance presented a total barrier to further movement. ‘What about Robert?’

‘Robert will be all right,’ said Lili. ‘I think we should definitely go out.’

‘Why?’ asked my mother.

‘It would be enjoyable,’ said Lili. ‘It would be interesting to try a new restaurant. It would remind us of the days of our youth mixing with Greeks and Arabs and Armenians in strange corners of the world.’

I still couldn’t imagine my mother mixing with foreigners anywhere.

‘We could go to Rules,’ she said doubtfully, ‘but we haven’t booked.’

‘Let’s go somewhere more farouche,’ said Lili coaxingly. ‘Somewhere we won’t see anyone we know.’

Maybe my mother thought it would take my mind off the convent, for she agreed.

Lili could be charmingly manipulative, but I would have thought my mother proof against her. I had no desire to go out, but it would be one way of getting through the evening.

Sitting in the back of the car I watched the suburbs going by under the street lights. They hadn’t the appeal of the stinking lanes fitfully lit by naphtha flares in the souks when a fair went on long into the night.

Lili sang as she drove.

The restaurant was in a back street and was small and half-empty. My mother looked round with an expression of misgiving. ‘Why here?’ she inquired, too loudly.

‘I was told about it,’ said Lili. ‘They do delicious moules marinières and they’re not mean with the garlic.’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ said my mother, extremely dubiously, but she permitted herself to be led to a table and sat down.

‘I hope it’s clean,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t look terribly clean. I hope there aren’t any cockroaches. Cynthia’s house this morning and now this.’

‘Not your day is it, darling,’ said Lili consolingly. ‘Just wait till you try the moules.’

‘I’m not sure I want moules,’ said my mother. ‘I’m never sure about shellfish.’

‘They get them fresh every day,’ said Lili.

‘How do you know?’ asked my mother.

‘I was told,’ said Lili, ‘by the person who told me about this place.’ She looked round. ‘It has a certain character, you must admit.’

‘When people say that about restaurants,’ said my mother grimly, ‘it usually means cockroaches.’

I thought this rather witty of my mother. Lili seemed able to make both her and Syl’s mother passingly amusing.

I was sitting with my back to the door. I felt a draught as it opened, and half turned. Nobody came in, but as I looked round I saw my mother staring past me, her mouth open.

‘Wasn’t that...?’ she said. ‘Did I see...?’