‘Well, he never met you, did he? You were too shy, you said, scurried off with … with whatsisname. Perhaps he never even saw you but, he saw me, asked me about the doubling business, asked me to go and have lunch. That’s all.’ He finished his coffee, scooped the sugar out with a spoon. ‘And anyway, if there has been some, whatever-accident to, what’s his name?, Wolf, I reckon everything’s off and he’s just being polite; a drink not a meal, that’s all.’

‘He is an awful, awful man this. He did something very terrible to Wolf. He showed me, on his back.’

‘What did he do? Bite him?’

‘Oh, it’s not so funny! You can laugh if you like. Hit him, with a whip thing, six, seven times, big marks. I saw.’

‘On his bum? What was Wolf up to with you with his trousers down, I’d like to know?’

‘Oh stupid! So silly … you just make a joke. It was terrible, he lost his temper.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t take me long to lose my temper with that bloke. Clobber him one.’

‘Just because he is nice, because he is gentle and kind.’

‘Minny-ninny.’

‘He’s not! True and good …’

‘Jesus saves! A minny-ninny.’

‘You’re jealous. Stupid.’

‘Jealous! You must be joking. Jealous of him? Wandering about behind you all day like something from the Battersea Dogs’ Home. Jealous!’

‘So jealous, that’s what.’

‘Bleating away together in German. “Ach soing”, “Bitte schoening”. Make you sick.’

‘And you! With that stupid girl. Smiling, wobbling everywhere; all during dinner she was touching you, blowing kisses. Stupid, silly thing. Common.’

‘Now who’s jealous!’

‘And so fat. Disgusting. Big fat bosoms like bags full of water.’

‘Super tits, terrific’

‘Maybe you have some kind of complex … for a Mamma, is that it? You like to cuddle those big things, like a little boy? She is like a cow, this person, with that thing the milk comes out of. Disgusting.’

‘Jealous!’

‘Hummmm. Fantastic …’ She pressed her finger on a flake of croissant, put it in her mouth.

From the next table the English woman said, ‘Mrs Cushing’s are just the same. Big red flowers on blue. Cheery. In her lounge.’

‘And you smell of her,’ said Leni. ‘All over. Everywhere. I knew in bed, last night.’

‘What did you know, pray?’

‘Her scent. Everywhere, sicky. And marks …’

He replaced his spoon slowly in the saucer, folded his arms on the table. ‘What marks?’

She didn’t answer, leant back in her chair looking towards Italy, tilting her head high, slightly to one side, a look of complete indifference.

‘Come on now. You started this. What marks? Leni? Where?’

She stared ahead.

‘Where?’

‘On your top part. On this place.’ She indicated her right shoulder with a nod of her head.

‘Oh that. We were swimming, that’s all.’

‘On your neck, your chin.’