“Dad?” David’s smile was ludicrous because of its ragged emerging teeth. “Are we going to the stock-car racing tonight?”

“I don’t know, son. It’s a little late in the year — the evenings are cold out at the track.”

“Can’t we wear overcoats, and eat hot dogs and things like that to keep warm?”

“You know something? You’re right! Let’s do that.” Hutchman watched the slow spread of pleasure across the boy’s face. Decision made and ratified, he thought. The neutrons can wait for another dancing master. Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast… He went into the bedroom and roused Vicky. “Get up, woman. David and I want an early dinner — we’re going to the stock-car racing.”

Vicky straightened, pulled the white linen sheet tight around herself, and lay perfectly still, hipless as an Egyptian mummy. “I’m not moving till you tell me you love me.”

Hutchman crossed to the bed. “I do love you.”

“And you’ll never look at anyone else?”

“I’ll never look at anyone else.”

Vicky smiled languorously. “Come back to bed.”

Hutchman shook his head. “David’s home.”

“Well, he has to learn the facts of life sometime.”

“I know, but I don’t want him writing an essay about us for the school. I’ve been branded as a drunkard since the one he did last month, and I’ll be expelled from the PTA if word gets around that I’m a sex maniac.”

“Oh, well.” Vicky sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I think I’ll go to the stock-car racing with you.”

“But you don’t enjoy it.”

“I think I’ll enjoy it tonight.”