Well, that's true, you do see them out walking on occasion.

"No," she answers. "We chatted for a while over afternoon tea."

Ronan nodsno surprises there. That's an image he can connect with. They probably did a spot of knitting too, but of course he's too polite to ask.

Sylvana returns now, big wide grin on her face.

"And then," Mother goes on, "I returned and watched a video."

Ronan is impressed. Like he regards technology in the hands of the aged as something of a good omen. "You watched a video," he repeats, nodding.

"You could say that."

"Anything interesting?"

"You want to know the plot?" says Mother drily. "Well, it didn't take me long to grasp it: it was the story of a man and a woman dead keen to show the world the uses to which greenhouses can be put. Apart from watering the tomatoes."

Ronan asks Mother to be more specific.

"It was about a man and a woman doing things to each other, things they didn't need clothes to do them with. You know the sort of thing. A film dedicated to grunting and naked bodies."

Ronan chokes on something. An escaped fish fin, probably.

"Mother," says I, frowning, "are you saying you went down to the video store and rented a porn movie?"

"It's a free country," says Sylvana.

"Is that what you both think of me? Do you really think I went into the video store and walked up to the counter and said, "Excuse me, young man, I like the look of that video on the shelf entitled Whip Chick Whip Chick and is there a reduction for old-age pensioners?"" and is there a reduction for old-age pensioners?""

Sylvana cackles with delight.

"Then where did you get that video?" I insist.

She gets up, goes over to the cooker, grabs the bowl of mousseline, returns to the table and ladles another large spoonful over my husband's spaghetti.

"No, really, Gertrude, I..."

"I insist, Ronan. It's nourishing."

He succumbs.

She offers Sylvana a final half-spoon of the fish sauce, saying that she doesn't want any leftovers tonight.

"Thanks awfully, Gertrude, but I seem to have lost my appetite."

"Mother! Tell me where you got that video."

Mother to Ronan, as she sits down: "Will I tell her?"

I turn to my husband who I suddenly realize is blushing like a cooked crushed tomato. "Don't tell me it's yours? yours?" I gasp.

Deafening silence.

"In actual fact," continues Mother, "I felt something sharp sticking into my back the first night I slept here."

Sylvana is laughing out loud now. And she's not stopping.

"What were you thinking of, Ronan?"

He tries to shrug it off. I glare at him, but he's begun to eat his meal very quickly now, trying not to look too discomfited.

"You've gone all red, Ronan," observes Sylvana once she's ceased giggling.

"What's it to you?"

"Is it fun, watching steamy video sex?"

"Steamy sex is nothing to be ashamed of," he says in that utterly reasonable tone of voice.

"Then why do you look so ashamed?" inquires Sylvana. "Do you make a habit of indulging in it?"

He laughs. "I happen to be married."

He's weakening.

"All the more reason to be ashamed," she replies.

This is getting good.

"I'm not ashamed of being married, are you, Julie?"

"Ask me next week."

Just think: me and the two closest people in the world to me have embarked on this joint venture to crucify my husband to the dinner table.

And Mother, simultaneously, is in the process of poisoning the poor bastard.

It's a most unexpected bonus.

35 35.

When Mother leaves the room to get ready for bed, Ronan is enduring the last remnants of his fish pasta.

Sylvana and I glance at one another.

And we let rip.

"Did you enjoy your fish puree, Ronan?" says I.

"Tell your mother it was excellent."

"You're a brave man," observes Sylvana.

He hesitates for a second, then continues his fork motions. "It's not that bad."

"You don't have to be polite," I tell him.

Suddenly Sylvana reaches over to Ronan and pretends to pluck something from his jacket. "A hair," she announces, making a flicking motion with her ringers over the floor.

"A hair?" I echo.

"It's blonde." She grins.

"What's her name, Ronan?"

I rest my chin on my knuckles and turn to face him, with an air of infuriatingly suggestive expectation.

"That hair strand could belong to anyone," he says, unruffled.

"Oo!" squeals Sylvana. "He gets around."

He's now gobbling the remainder of his meal like there's an invisible finish line, like he can't get it down him quickly enough.

"Do you both mind if I eat this delicious meal in peace?"

Sylvana winks at me.

Me: "It's rude to speak with your mouth full."

"At least I speak through my mouth."

He jerks his head towards Sylvana.

"Is that what you call it?" is Sylvana's deft reply, which sends me into a sudden spasm of giggles.

"Don't mind him, Sylvana, he's just annoyed because you found a blonde hair on his shoulder."

"Your implication is a little extravagant, Julie."

"Then why do you look so pissed-off, honey?"

"It suits him."

"And speaking of extravagant implications, what is a porn video entitled Whip Chick Whip Chick doing underneath my mother's mattress?" doing underneath my mother's mattress?"

"More to the point: what's your mother doing on top top of it?" of it?"

"Sleeping, like most people do on mattresses."

Sylvana, grinning: "Don't be naive, Julie."

Ronan: "Well, she can sleep somewhere else."

"Sylvana, is there a Society for the Protection of Old Folk?"

"He'll be old himself some day."

"But not overweight," he cuts in.

"And bald," Sylvana adds, ignoring the slur. "Soon he'll be buying hats to keep the draught out. And impotent, too. Can you imagine the freedom, Julie? In a mere thirty to forty years' time most of our male peers will be failing miserably in that area. Not even Whip Chick Whip Chick will be enough to bring it back." will be enough to bring it back."

It's not easy to maintain one's composure when Sylvana gets going like this.

"But why the video, Ronan? Was it to spice up our sex life?"

He just looks at me.

"It's not such a strange question, Ronan. After all, your whole horizon is sex."

"Is that a problem?" he tries to joke.

"You'll start making mistakes."

"Like what? Leaving porn videos underneath mattresses?"

"No. I mean real mistakes..."

Like the kind of mistake I'd hoped he might make with me.

Sylvana: "Don't worry, Julie; no man travels without a condom these days. It's called estate planning."

"This is pathetic," he says, rising suddenly to his feet.

Sylvana is roasting him over the fire. Before last Thursday I wouldn't have allowed her. Now I don't give a damn. It's great.

He brings his bowl over to the sink and just leaves it there. He expects Mother to pay for her keep by washing his dirty dishes. He glares, I mean furiously, at poor Max who has never lifted so much as a paw against him.

He exits the room without another word.

Sylvana and I light up and congratulate ourselves on a job well done.

"He actually finished his meal too," I observe after a while. "It can't have been that bad."

"Then again," muses Sylvana, "there's no objective reason why fish cooked straight from the sea should be any tastier than fish cooked straight from your aquarium."

She has a point. Sylvana can be so balanced and judicious at times.

"I agree. I mean, fish is fish, isn't it?"