“D-d-d-dearest d-d-do sit d-d-down and r-r-rest.” I smart at your parody of Jack’s stammer. Instead of joining in your joke I should like to slap you. I push past you, letting my silence express my displeasure.

The letter I receive from Aunt Mary advising me to stop seeing Jack is so ridiculous I want to burn it. Instead, I carry it into the dining room and fling it on the breakfast table. Thoby, still at home for the holidays, sees.

“What’s the matter, Nessa? You look as if you’ve been struck by lightning.”

“I have. I’ve just opened this letter from Aunt Mary, who thinks it her business to decide who my friends should be.”

George, still yawning in his dressing gown, stretches lazily.

“If she means Jack then I have to say I agree. After all, it would be an illegal match. A man cannot marry his deceased wife’s sister.”

I am appalled. My feelings for Jack have never taken such a definite form. I look at Thoby to rescue me.

“George is right, you know. Best to stop seeing Jack.” This time, the lightning strike is real. In my agitation, I let my knife slide to the floor. You stoop to retrieve it.

“Poppycock! If that’s what the law says then the law needs to be changed. It’s hardly incest.” You look coolly at George, taunting him to take up your bait. Thoby answers.

“All the same, I think you should listen to Aunt Mary. She means well, and it’s true that if Nessa did try to marry Jack it would create the most awful stink.”

“I beg your pardon. Since when did Aunt Mary mean well?” The fierceness of your support surprises me. “Aunt Mary has never given a moment’s thought to Nessa’s happiness. All she was thinking about when she wrote that letter was her own reputation. Actually I’m rather sorry Stella didn’t have more husbands. Perhaps, if we had each married one, we could both have broken the law.” You slip the knife back into my hand with a wink.

Violet comes to visit. Her tall figure, exaggerated by her ramshackle clothes, hurries to greet us. As she holds out her arms I cannot help remembering that it was Stella who first introduced us. Violet stops in the hallway and retrieves a paper from her bag. I see that it is something you have written. She whispers as she presses it into your hand. I can tell by your face that she has praised you.

We go into the drawing room and settle round the fire. You sit at Violet’s feet, your back resting against her legs. She wastes no time in explaining the reason for her visit.