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she did not have any privileged source of information. She had not seen Lewis for years.
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    This conversation proved to be only the first of many in which Lynne tried to persuade me that Lewis and I were not ideally suited, and I, in spite of all the evidence supporting her
view, did my best to contradict her. Sometimes a whole week would pass without my being able to reach him. Then he would surface again, talking about business. He used Mike as an excuse not to invite me to his house in Clapham, but night after night I telephoned and no one answered. He rivalled Houdini in his ability to extricate himself from compromising situations. I often felt as if I had wandered into a hall of mirrors where illusion and reality could no longer be distinguished.
    To Lynne, Gillian, and my other friends, my behaviour seemed like lunacy; I was too shy to explain what justified my persistence. In the dark with Lewis I experienced passions and pleasures that I had never known before, and it was this that made it hard for me to accept that he did not reciprocate my feelings. I could not grasp that for him the intensity of the event was matched by its brevity. One moment he could be sighing with passion over me, and half an hour later he was hurrying out of my flat, totally preoccupied with reaching a client in Tokyo.
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    As the months passed, Lewis became increasingly unreliable and I was not surprised when at the last minute he announced that he was too busy to come to Charlie and Nick’s midsummer teaparty. I even welcomed his decision. His absence would give me a chance to see old friends without the sense of constraint that his presence engendered. Charlie and Nick had both been at York, and their annual party, given in honour of Nick’s birthday, functioned as a reunion.
    In previous years I had often met up with fellow guests at Charing Cross, but Lewis’s change of plan had made me late, and I spotted no one either on the train to Maze Hill or on the short walk from the station. It was a beautiful day, warm and breezy, and my spirits lifted. As I opened the garden gate Nick’s cat, Satan, who was lounging on the doorstep, rolled belly-up. Obediently I stooped to pat his slightly dusty fur.
The door was open, and I stepped inside. I found Nick in the kitchen. He was looking impressively boyish. His hair was cut shorter than I remembered, and he was deeply tanned.
    He kissed me on the cheek. “We’re all out in the garden,” he said. “I was just making a fresh pot of tea.”
    â€œHappy birthday. You look wonderful.”
    â€œThank you, thank you. Not a day over thirty. This was my present from Charlie.” He fingered the creamy fabric of his shirt.
    â€œIt’s lovely,” I said, and he reciprocated with some flattering remarks about my blue dress. I followed him outside. The long, sheeted table, spread with food, was surrounded by guests; everyone seemed to be engrossed in animated conversation. I saw Greg and Eve standing off to one side and went over to greet them.
    Eve hugged my knees and Greg kissed me. “We were discussing which flowers Eve could pick,” he said. “Charlie and Nick keep this garden so fiendishly tidy that there doesn’t seem to be a single dandelion, and scarcely any daisies either.”
    â€œAre you complaining about our garden?” Charlie said. He proffered sandwiches from two mounded plates. “Cheese and cucumber, or egg salad. Celia, lovely to see you.”
    â€œI want to pick flowers,” Eve said. “I want to pick flowers for Nick.”
    â€œWhat a nice idea,” said Charlie. “Suppose you give me a hand with taking round the sandwiches, and then we can make a bouquet together.”
    â€œYes, please.”
    Charlie led the way to the table, where he swiftly made up a small plate of sandwiches for Eve to carry. The two of them set off round the garden together.
    â€œThey spoil her rotten,” Greg