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however, one thing about this morning slopping to be thankful for. Since he was outside he had been able to catch the postman and take the letters himself. With a damp hand he felt the letter in his pocket, the letter that had just come from his second wife. There was no reason why Nancy should see it and have cause to moan at him because of its contents. Those begging letters were a continual thorn in his flesh. Why should his daughter go on holiday to Majorca when he could only manage Worthing? Sucha wonderful chance for her, Oliver, but of course she, Shirley, couldn’t afford the air fare or equip Jennifer with a suitable wardrobe for a seven-year-old in the Balearics. Fifty pounds or perhaps seventy would help. After all, Jennifer was his daughter as well as hers and she was his affectionate Shirley.
    He dropped the sponge into the bucket and bent down to polish the windscreen. Over the hedge he saw that his neighbour was opening his own garage doors, but although he liked the doctor he was in no mood for conversation that morning. Resentment caught at his throat like heartburn. Greenleaf was wearing another new suit! Gossip had it that the doctor was awaiting delivery of another new car. Oliver could hardly bear it when he compared what he thought of as the doctor’s miserable continental medical degree with his own Double First.
    ‘Good morning.’
    Greenleaf’s car drew level with his own and Oliver was forced to look up into his neighbour’s brown aquiline face. It was a very un-English face, almost Oriental, with dark, close-set eyes, a large intelligent mouth and thick hair, crinkly like that of some ancient Assyrian.
    ‘Oh, hallo,’ Oliver said ungraciously. He stood up, making an effort to say something neighbourly, when Nancy came running down the path from the kitchen door. She stopped and saw the doctor and smiled winningly.
    ‘Off on your rounds? What a pity to have to work on a Saturday! I always tell Oliver he doesn’t know his luck, having all these long week-ends.’
    Oliver coughed. His other wives had learned that his coughs were pregnant with significance. InNancy’s case there had hardly been time to teach her, and now …
    ‘I hope I’ll see you tonight,’ said the doctor as he began to move off.
    ‘Oh, yes tonight …’ Nancy’s face had taken on its former lines of displeasure. When Greenleaf was out of earshot she turned sharply to her husband. ‘I thought you said you left Tamsin’s present on the sideboard.’
    Oliver had a nose for a scene. He picked up the bucket and started towards the house.
    ‘I did.’
    ‘You bought that for Tamsin?’ She scuttled after him into the dining-room and picked up the scent bottle with its cut-glass stopper. ‘Nuit de Beltane? I never heard of such extravagance!’
    Oliver could see from the open magazine on the table that she had already been checking the price.
    ‘There you are.’ Her finger stabbed at a coloured photograph of a similar bottle. ‘Thirty-seven and six!’ She slammed the magazine shut and threw it on the floor. ‘You must be mad.’
    ‘You can’t go to a birthday party empty-handed.’ Oliver said weakly. If only he knew for certain. There might, after all, be no point in bothering to keep Nancy sweet. He watched her remove the stopper, sniff the scent and dab a spot on her wrist. While she waved her wrist in front of her nose, inhaling crossly, he washed his hands and closed the back door.
    ‘A box of chocolates would have done,’ Nancy said. She lugged the sewing machine up on its rubber mat. ‘I mean, it’s fantastic spending thirty-seven and six on scent for Tamsin when I haven’t even got a decent dress to go in.’
    ‘Oh my God!’
    ‘You don’t seem to have a sense of proportion where money’s concerned.’
    ‘Keep the scent for God’s sake and I’ll get some chocolates in the village.’
    Immediately she was in his arms. Oliver crushed the letter down more firmly in his pocket.
    ‘Can I really,