‘Oh yes! Of course! That’s what’s been so marvellous, why I’ve been so happy again. And my beloved Minna was here as well, and she always makes me full of joy: we don’t see each other often, but she is always the same. The sort of American they used to be. Strong, brave, funny, alive, tough and principled. She hated the changes which came, so she just stayed where she was, in the forties. Deep Frozen. Very wise. She’s managed to avoid most of the distresses that way. “With Blondie and Dagwood in the White House, there’s no place for me in America,” she said. So she’ll stick it out in Tuscany. And I’ll stick it out here … with Archie entombed almost permanently in his Museum place, dear Bruna banging on about how she hates the Huns; she’s so boring about that. I can’t play Bridge so I’ll get on with weeding my onions, you see?’

‘Very suburban.’

‘Utterly. I loathe it. Just before, well, just before we “met” I’d been in London. It was such fun! I adored it all; parties, invitations, so much to do. It was the most awful anti-climax coming back here. I mean, you do see?’

‘Well, I couldn’t see for me, if you follow? But I suppose I see for you. I didn’t know that you hated it so here. I didn’t know that. Even feel it.’ He couldn’t look at her.

She shrugged, shook her head, fixed the velvet bow in her hair. ‘Oh, I don’t absolutely hate it. Not so vehement. I just get desperately depressed sometimes. I feel buried. Do you know?’

‘Yes. Is that why …?’ He picked up Jane Austen, wiped imaginary dust from the cover.

Here it comes, she thought, help him with it, God knows you’ve been showering him with false clues.

‘Is that why what?’

He looked up uncomfortably. ‘I shouldn’t ask. The shrimping thing? You said. Do you remember? Without the net? Is that why?’

‘I’m afraid so. Wasn’t it frightful? Just became completely dotty with depression. I think I told you at the time. A little mental aberration. That’s really all … but I’ll never attempt that again. Such an idiotic thing to try and do.’

He was looking at his knees, pulling a thread from the seam of his jeans. ‘I thought it was … something more.’

‘No,’ she said briskly. ‘Nothing more. Sheer, stinking self-pity. That’s all. And when you all leave, which will be beastly, I think I will too. Off on a little trip, just on my own. There are lots of places I haven’t been to. I must be a bit more enterprising, don’t you think? Adventurous? San Francisco, Peking, Oslo …’

‘If it would be fun.’