He tiptoed down and slipped into the drawing-room with a nearly dizzy-making sense of the dangers ahead. ‘Ah, George,’ murmured his mother, with a hint of reproach; he shrugged and smirked slightly as if his only offence had been to keep them waiting. Hubert, with his back to the empty grate, had ensnared them all in talk about local transport. ‘So you were stranded at Harrow and Wealdstone, eh?’ He beamed over his raised champagne glass, as proud of the rigours of life in Stanmore as he was of the blessings.

‘Didn’t matter a bit,’ said Cecil, catching George’s eye and smiling curiously.

‘As a wit once said, it sounds like some medieval torture. Harrow and wealdstone – can’t you just see it!’

‘Oh, spare me the wealdstone!’ said Daphne.

‘We’re devoted to Harrow and Wealdstone, whatever a wit may have said,’ said his mother.

George stood for a moment with his hand pressed flat against Cecil’s lower back and gazed into his friend’s glass. He wiggled his fingers to play the secret notes of apology and promise. ‘Well the Valance motto,’ Cecil said, ‘is “Seize the Day”. We were brought up not to waste time. You’d be amazed what one can find to do, even at a suburban railway station.’ He gave them all his happiest smile, and when Daphne said, ‘What sort of things do you mean?’ he carried on smiling as if he hadn’t heard her.

‘I gather you came up through the Priory,’ said Hubert, genially determined to follow every step of his journey.

‘Yes, indeed we did,’ said Cecil, very smoothly.

‘You know Queen Adelaide used to live there,’ said Hubert, with a quick frown to show he didn’t want to make a big thing of it.

‘So I gather,’ said Cecil, his glass empty already.

‘Later I believe it was a very excellent hotel,’ said Mrs Kalbeck.

‘And now a school,’ said Hubert, with a bleak little snuffle.

‘A sad fate!’ said Daphne.

Jesus Christ! thought George, though all he came out with as he crossed the room was a sort of distracted chuckle.