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He nodded. ‘Yes.’

The woman’s lips were pursed in disapproval. Surely I can go unshaven in my own house, thought Angus. Surely . . .

‘You may not recall our meeting some time ago,’ she said. ‘It was in the gardens. At night.’

Angus smiled. ‘Of course. Of course.’ He had no recollection of meeting her, but she was one of the neighbours, he assumed. There would be some issue with the shared gardens; keys or benches or children breaking branches of the rhododendrons.

‘Good,’ said the woman. ‘So you’ll remember that your dog . . . your dog paid attention to my own dog. You’ll remember that, then.’

It came back. Of course! This was the owner of the bitch whom Cyril had met in the gardens. It had been most embarrassing, but it was hardly his fault – nor Cyril’s, for that matter. One could not expect dogs to observe the niceties in these matters when a female dog was in an intriguing condition. Surely this woman . . .

‘And now,’ said the woman, staring at Angus, ‘and now my own dog is experiencing the consequences of your dog’s . . . your dog’s assault.’

Angus stared back at her. Cyril had not assaulted the other dog. They had got on famously, in fact, and this woman must know that.

‘But I don’t think that my dog—’ Angus began, to be cut short by the woman, who sighed impatiently.

‘My dog is now pregnant,’ said the woman. ‘And your dog is responsible for it. There are six, the vet says.’

‘Six?’

‘Six puppies, Mr Lordie. Yes, the vet has performed an ultrasound examination of Pearly, my dog, and has found six puppies.’

Angus swallowed. ‘Well, well. That really is . . .’

‘Most unfortunate,’ snapped the woman. ‘That’s what it is. There are six puppies for whom I cannot be responsible. I live in a small flat and I cannot keep seven dogs. Which means that you are going to have to shoulder your responsibilities.’

For a few moments, Angus said nothing. He did not doubt that the puppies were there, and that Cyril was the father, but was he really responsible for them? He knew all about the Dangerous Dogs Act (after Cyril’s unfortunate brush with the law), but were the laws of paternity and aliment of puppies the same as those that applied to humans? Surely not.

The woman broke the silence. ‘And so what I’m proposing to do is to pass the puppies on to you the moment they are ready to leave their mother. That will be . . .’ She consulted a small red diary which she had taken out of her handbag, and gave a date. ‘I take it that that will be convenient.’

Angus stared at her in astonishment. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We can’t have six puppies here. This is . . . this is my studio as well as my flat. I simply can’t have six puppies.’

‘You should have thought of that before you allowed your dog to . . . to approach my dog,’ said the woman. ‘You should have thought of the consequences of your dog’s actions.’

Angus felt a wave of annoyance come over him. He had been polite to this woman, but she had been hectoring and imperious. Had she spoken to him courteously and sought his assistance, he might have made some proposals about sharing the care of the puppies until they were found a new home, but she had not done that, and now he felt like digging in.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘From my point of view, you took the risk when you took a bitch in heat out into the gardens. You should have known better. You cannot blame my dog for behaving as he did. In fact, you should count yourself lucky that the puppies will have good blood. Cyril, I would have you know, is a pedigree dog, while yours, if I may say so, is undoubtedly a mongrel of some sort. Cyril lowered himself when he consorted with her . . .’

‘How dare you!’ hissed the woman. ‘You . . . you impossible man!’ She paused, as if to summon up further insults, but there were none; instead: ‘The puppies will be brought on the appointed day. I shall leave them at the bottom of the stairs, in a box, if you are not in. And that is all there is to it.’

She turned round and began to walk down the stairs.