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Dr Fairbairn raised an eyebrow. ‘Although?’

‘Although he did make a curious remark about exchanging Ulysses.’

This was greeted with great interest by Dr Fairbairn, who leaned forward, eager to hear more. ‘Please elucidate,’ he urged Irene. ‘Exchange?’

Irene had not intended to discuss the incident in which Ulysses had been parked in his baby buggy outside Valvona & Crolla – she was not sure how well either she or Stuart emerged from that tale– but now she had to explain.

‘It was a most unfortunate slip on my husband’s part,’ she said, almost apologetically. ‘He left Ulysses outside Valvona & Crolla.’

‘A handbag?’ said Dr Fairbairn, and smiled; he thought this quite a clever reference, and was disappointed when Irene looked at him in puzzlement.

‘The Importance—’ he began.

‘Of being Ulysses!’ capped Irene. She had understood all along of course, and had merely affected puzzlement.

Dr Fairbairn had to acknowledge her victory with a nod of the head. ‘But, please proceed. What happened?’

‘Well, he was found,’ said Irene. ‘Somebody must have called the police and they took him off to the council emergency nursery. We went there very quickly, of course, and retrieved Ulysses, or the baby we thought was Ulysses. In fact, it was a girl.’ She paused. ‘And unfortunately, Bertie made the discovery. He saw that this baby didn’t have . . . well, he thought that the relevant part had fallen off.’

Dr Fairbairn made a quick note on his pad of paper. ‘That’s most unfortunate,’ he said. ‘But it clearly reveals castration anxieties. As you know, most boys are worried about that.’

‘Of course,’ said Irene. And she wondered for a moment about Stuart.

‘And the interesting thing is this,’ went on Dr Fairbairn. ‘As you’ll recall, one of the main concerns of Freud’s famous patient, Little Hans, was that he would suffer this unfortunate fate through the agency of dray horses.’ He paused, and looked at Irene with bright eyes. ‘Isn’t it extraordinary how real life mimics the classic cases. Don’t you agree, Dora?’

Irene frowned. ‘You called me Dora.’

Dr Fairbairn shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re mistaken.’

‘No, you made the mistake. And a classic one, if I may say so. Surely you don’t regard me as Dora?’

Dr Fairbairn smiled urbanely. ‘Of course not. Perish the thought. But I didn’t call you Dora, anyway, and so let’s return to this issue of baby exchange.’

‘He suggested that we keep the girl,’ said Irene. ‘For some reason, he seemed quite happy that Ulysses had been mislaid.’

‘Well, there you are,’ said Dr Fairbairn. ‘He obviously feels that a girl would be no threat to him in his mother/son relationship with you. He’s Oedipus, you see, and you are Jocasta, mother of Oedipus and wife of Laius. Bertie resents his father – obviously – because he, Bertie, wants your unrivalled attention. Ulysses is a rival too, and that’s why Bertie secretly wishes that Ulysses did not possess that which marks him out as a boy.

‘When he saw that the baby whom he took to be Ulysses did not have that, then it was the fulfilment of his wildest dream. Now there was no danger for him – and that, you see, is why he would have wanted to keep the other baby.’

Irene had to agree with the perspicacity of this analysis. He was really very clever, she thought, this doctor in his crumple-free blue linen jacket; so unlike virtually all other men she had ever met. Men were such a disappointing group, on the whole; so out of touch with their feminine side, so rooted in the dull practicalities of life; and yet here was Dr Fairbairn, who just understood.

She sighed. Stuart would never understand. He knew nothing of psychodynamics; he knew nothing of the unconscious; he knew nothing, really.

‘Of course,’ she said suddenly. ‘There’s always Ulysses.’

Dr Fairbairn said nothing. He picked up his pen and stroked it gently. ‘Oh yes?’ he said non-committally.

‘Ulysses will have identity conflicts, will he not? When he’s old enough to question who he is?’

‘We all wonder who we are,’ said Dr Fairbairn distantly.