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…’
    ‘No more than a week, Kitty.’
    ‘Of course not, dear. I knew you’d help out. He just wants a room to sleep in. I expect he’ll be with David most of the time.’
    ‘Steve Best.’
    ‘Yes. I know no more than you do. Of course it’s all massively inconvenient, I’d be the first to admit. But she is my granddaughter, and she wants to get married in London …’
    ‘That’s the bit I don’t understand.’
    ‘The poor girl wants a proper wedding, I suppose. Her mother takes no interest, probably can’t afford to. I know what this is about, Thea. I’m not stupid. Austin and I can provide for her in a way that her mother can’t. That’s why we’re being honoured with her presence.’
    ‘Yes, I see.’
    ‘Still, I couldn’t refuse. How could I? And of course she’ll need something to wear …’
    ‘I hope Steve won’t need something to wear.’
    ‘What?’ Tinkling laugh, flirtatious now. ‘Oh, I see. Your little joke. We’ve always appreciated that dry sense of humour of yours.’
    ‘No more than a week, Kitty.’
    ‘No, of course not, dear. And thank you so much; we appreciate it. We’ll see you at the wedding, of course. Austin was saying it’s been too long since we got together. Must go now. So much to do.’ Again the little laugh, the different timbre signallingthat she had got her own way. ‘Goodbye, Thea. And thank you again.’
    Mrs May replaced the receiver slowly, as soon as it was clear that Kitty had no more to ask of her. She was aghast at herself for the abrupt tone she had heard in her own voice, aghast at Kitty for manipulating her so shamelessly, aghast at herself for allowing herself to be so manipulated. Kitty was a monster, of course; this opinion was strictly private, not revealed even to Henry, but for once Kitty’s monstrousness was not the point, or not the whole point. Mrs May did not like what she had heard of herself, either when voicing her objections or when waiving them. She had heard a whole lifetime of polite refusals in that voice that strove to be so calm, so reasonable. A real woman would have laughed and said, ‘Really, Kitty, it’s out of the question. Why can’t he go to a hotel?’ Or produced a full agenda of visitors to prove that her spare room was occupied. But since Henry’s death, fifteen years ago, she had had no visitors, was known as a solitary, made no bones about the fact. Yet for all her solitariness, or her self-sufficiency, she lacked an overriding philosophy to help her deal with encroachments, incursions, and thus fell at the first fence. And it was not as if she even knew this person, knew anything about him. Her life did not bring her into contact with young people, and it was so long since she had been young herself. And were young people nowadays anything like the young person she had been, young only in age, hardly in requirements? One heard about drugs, raves. Even if he were as innocent as she had been, and that was unlikely, he would be an unwelcome presence. She would have to make rules, see that he obeyed them. And supposing he took no notice, saw her for the harmless old girl that she was, and took advantage? At the back of her mind was an archaic fear, a fear that went so deepthat it suddenly seemed to her that her whole life had been designed to outwit it. Until now she had been successful. It took only one telephone call to bring her defences down.
    Her values, she would be the first to admit, were entirely suburban. One ate plain food, was careful not to give offence, and stayed at home until one married. But these were the suburban values of her youth, when suburbs still knew their place. One did not accommodate random strangers without at least an introduction, or some sort of previous acquaintance. One rarely encountered wealthy matriarchs like Kitty; matriarchs belonged to a higher order of things, or were read about enjoyably in books. Mrs May knew that even now Kitty had forgotten her all too timid protests;