When she discovered the beer room, I explained the arrangement with George.

‘It’s like house-sitting. Instead of a dog, he has beer. Which, unlike a dog, does not require feeding.’

‘I gather it still managed to do the equivalent of pee on the floor.’

I had forgotten the smell. Humans rapidly become accustomed to their environments. I doubted that Rosie’s long-term happiness would be significantly decreased if the beer smell remained. Nor, for that matter, would it be increased by the change of apartments. After the most basic physical requirements are satisfied, human happiness is almost independent of wealth. A meaningful job is far more important. One day in the life of Ivan Denisovich laying bricks in Siberia probably generated a higher level of happiness than one day in the life of a retired rock star in a Manhattan penthouse with all the beer he could drink. Work was crucial to sanity. Which was probably why George continued to perform on the cruise ship.

Rosie was still talking. ‘You’re serious about not paying rent?’

‘Correct.’

‘How would you feel if I gave up the cocktail bar job? It’s not the same any more. It’s probably only a matter of time before Wineman fires me anyway.’

Incredible. It appeared that our being fired by Wineman was a positive, or at least had zero impact. An item of bad news that would have detracted from my day’s success had been rendered irrelevant.

‘We can both give it up,’ I said. ‘It would be vastly less enjoyable without you.’

Rosie hugged me again. I was hugely relieved. I had undertaken a major, risk-prone project, solving multiple problems simultaneously, with complete success. I had cut the Gordian knot.

Rosie’s only negative reaction was to the use of the smallest room as our bedroom, as predicted by Dave. But then she said, ‘You gave me the biggest room for my office. And, of course, we’ll need an extra bedroom.’

It was good that she had accepted my solution to the Gene problem without further discussion. I texted him the good news along with our new address.

I served the fish with a Robert Mondavi Reserve chardonnay (me) and celery juice (Rosie). I had not bothered to buy the vacuum pump for the wine. Any surplus could be kept cool in the beer storage room. For the next eight months, I would be drinking for two.

Rosie raised her juice glass, clinked it with my wine, and then, with just a few words, reminded me of the problem, the terrible problem that had been hiding behind all the others.

‘So, Professor Tillman, how do you feel about being a father?’

7

My thoughts about being a father had progressed in the following sequence:

1. Prior to my late teens, I assumed that fatherhood would occur as my life proceeded according to the most common pattern. I did not contemplate it in any more detail.

2. At university I discovered my incompatibility with women, and gradually abandoned the idea, due to the improbability of finding a partner.

3. I met Rosie and fatherhood was back on the agenda. I was initially concerned that my general oddness would be an embarrassment to any children, but Rosie was encouraging and clearly expected us to reproduce at some point. As the actual creation of children had not been scheduled, I forgot about it.

4. Then everything changed as a result of a critical event. I had planned to discuss it with Rosie, but had not given it any priority, again because nothing had been scheduled and also because it reflected badly on me. Now, due to lack of planning, a child was almost inevitable and I had not disclosed important information.

The critical event was the Bluefin Tuna Incident. It had occurred only seven weeks earlier, and the memory of it returned as soon as Rosie raised the topic of fatherhood.

We had been invited to Sunday lunch with Isaac and Judy Esler, but Rosie had forgotten that she had scheduled a study-group meeting. It made sense for me to proceed alone. Isaac had asked for my recommendation as to venue. My automatic response was to select a restaurant I had visited several times before, but Rosie had persuaded me to do otherwise.

‘You’re way better at restaurants than you used to be. And you’re a foodie. Pick somewhere interesting and surprise them.’

Following substantial research, I selected a new Japanese fusion restaurant in Tribeca and advised Isaac.

On arrival, I discovered that Isaac had booked a table for five, which was slightly annoying. A three-person conversation involves three pairs of human interactions, three times as many as a two-person conversation. With familiar people, the complexity is manageable.

But with five people, there would be ten pairs, four involving me directly and six as an observer. Seven of these would involve unfamiliar people, assuming that Isaac and Judy had not coincidentally invited Dave and Sonia or the Dean of Medicine at Columbia, statistically unlikely in a city the size of New York. Keeping track of the dynamics would be virtually impossible and the probability of a faux pas would be increased. The scene was set: unfamiliar people, a restaurant I had not visited before, no Rosie to monitor the situation and provide an early warning. In retrospect, disaster was inevitable.

The additional people were a man and a woman who arrived in advance of Isaac and Judy. They joined me at the table where I was drinking a glass of sake, and introduced themselves as Seymour, a colleague of Isaac (hence presumably a psychiatrist), and Lydia, who did not specify her profession.

Seymour was aged approximately fifty and Lydia approximately forty-two. I had been trying (with minimal success) to eliminate a habit acquired during the Wife Project of calculating body mass index, based on estimates of height and weight, but in this case it was impossible not to notice. I estimated Seymour’s BMI at thirty and Lydia’s at twenty, primarily due to their difference in height. Seymour was approximately 165 centimetres tall (or, more descriptively, short), about the same height as Isaac, who is thin, while Lydia’s height was approximately 175 centimetres, only seven centimetres less than mine. They formed a striking counter-example to Gene’s assertion that people tend to select partners who resemble them physically.