Footsteps sounded in the hall. Aunt Monique came into the kitchen in a cloud of perfume and hairspray. “Bonsoir!” she cried. “I thought I heard voices.” I introduced James and she turned a brilliant smile on him. “Of course! I remember you from the wedding! You were the best man! Have you visited Peter? Of course you have. Darling Yvette, such a shame: I have to go to Maadi to visit a friend, she’s dreadfully unwell, I hope you don’t mind me being so rude.” This with a mournful glance at James and then a glint for me from between smoky eyelids, and then she was gone with no further blandishments.

Aunt Monique was extremely good at things like this but somehow her expertise made the ensuing silence more awkward. I filled it with the clatter of plates and cutlery.

“I spoke without thinking,” I said as I unwrapped the food. “I was just a silly girl.”

“It was only ten months ago.”

“Enough time to grow up.”

I served out the kobeiba and accompaniments. We were both young, we ate like wolves. He approved of the huge heap on my plate, said he liked girls who didn’t pick at their meals. I shunned cutlery for this kind of food and was gratified to see he did the same. Soon the crumpled papers were empty of everything but crumbs.

“We’ve eaten Célia’s helping,” I said in dismay.

“I’m mortified!”

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine.” I searched in the cupboard for eggs, found three. “She can have an omelet. Go into the sitting room, James, I’ll bring coffee.”

When I did so he was standing looking out of the window. The sun was low and it lit him up. He was lean, strong, quick-looking even when he was still. I put the tray on the low table. He sat down, and I sat next to him. We sipped our coffee.

“Do you like it like this?” I asked, because the coffee was black and sweet and scented with cardamom.

“Very much.”

We looked each other over. I could see the marks of the desert on him, the white lines radiating from the outer corners of his eyes. I dropped my gaze.

“The chap I’m meeting tonight,” James said into the silence that had suddenly formed.

“Yes?”

“He bent the airscrew on my plane, the one I’m waiting to collect. That’s why it wasn’t ready. He was firing at a tank, a practice target, and he didn’t pull up in time.”

“You mean he hit the tank?”

James nodded. “It’s very easy to do.”

“Is it?” I frowned. “Surely it’s a terrible mistake, to fly so low.”