Mathew returned with two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to Lexie. Then clutching the other for himself, he went back to reading his book.

Sally stopped pacing and asked, ‘How long have you and Owen been together?’

‘Not long.’

‘I hope it lasts.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You and Owen. He’s had troubles … he’s,’ Sally stopped mid-sentence and took a slug of her whisky before moving back to the table to refill her glass, saying, ‘Owen’s such a beautiful young man. He deserves some happiness.’

Lexie remembered Owen telling her how kind Sally had been to him. Exactly how kind? She took another look at Mathew over the rim of her glass and tried not to answer her own question.

The silence became uncomfortable. Lexie couldn’t think of anything to say. Mathew was absorbed again in his book, apparently unconcerned by the unusual behaviour of adults, and Sally was more and more preoccupied with the wall adjoining the judge’s study.

Lexie wished Owen would hurry to finish his meeting. She wondered if they might make an excuse and not stay for lunch.

Sally topped up her whisky for the third time and stepped towards the door, but shouting coming from another room stopped her in her tracks.

Then Owen’s voice came loud and clear. ‘NO!’ he shouted. ‘Never. Not until hell freezes over!’

Sally dropped her glass and clutched her chest. Mathew ran to his mother’s side, grabbing a cloth from the drinks table to clear the mess. Lexie stood up, wondering if she should do something to help Sally and the boy, but then the sitting-room door flew open.

Owen was in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes wild.

‘Lex, get me out of here,’ he said.

Lexie ran to him. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Can’t tell you now. Not here.’ He grabbed for her hand but missed. The judge appeared in the hall behind him.

‘Please don’t go.’ Sally rushed to Owen. ‘Please hear him out.’

‘I’ve heard more than I want already,’ Owen snapped.

‘But Owen?’ Sally reached out to him.

He recoiled. ‘How could you? How could you, of all people, let me walk into that? I thought better of you.’

‘Please, Owen, I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you. It wasn’t for me to say anything.’

‘How long have you known?’

‘Only since last weekend. Our conversation in the park got me thinking, and when I—’

Owen interrupted with a sound of disgust, grabbed Lexie by the hand and, brushing past the ashen-faced judge, he pushed his way out of the house.

* * *

Sally and Henrywatched as Owen and Lexie tumbled into her VW, and Lexie expertly turned the car, tyres crunching and spitting out the gravel.

‘I must go to George,’ Sally said.

‘I’ll drive you.’

‘No, Henry. You’re not well enough. I’ll drive myself.’

‘You can’t, you’ve been drinking.’

‘Then I’ll get the train. Come on.’ Sally turned and ushered him into the house. ‘Mathew can serve lunch for the two of you.’

‘But what about you?’

‘I’m not hungry. Besides, I must speak to George before Owen gets to him. Did you tell him everything?’

Henry shook his head and settled with a sigh into the fireside chair. ‘I didn’t have time. He was too appalled at learning I’m his father to listen to anything else I had to say. I’m sorry Sally… I’ve made such a mess of things.’