Thomas is sitting on his sofa in his office, imagining that this is very possibly where he is going to sleep tonight. He pours himself a whisky. This is a fine mess. Exactly what he most feared has happened. Glenn is terribly hurt. He would do anything to change that right now, but it’s all too late. He is in shock about Rosie, he thought he alone was significant to her. This changes all that. His ego is mighty bruised. Christ, the baby might be his … Kemble sits at the desk in his room, drinking from a half bottle of vermouth he keeps in his briefcase. He was going to dump it after his conversation with Rosie, but he now feels that he might as well drink it to help him unpick the messy news he’s just had. Why does he want to laugh? Something in the heart of him really doesn’t mind finding out that his perfect father might not be quite so perfect after all. And that his mother might have to face some tricky truths at last. He recalls her face from a few minutes back. Oh the schadenfreude.
