We are in Norman’s house. Melanie has called us to a “family conference”. That’s Melanie’s term. Amanda is home for the weekend.

It’s about Lavinia’s education.

“Little L” (as we now often call her) has been attending the school in the village since last autumn. Maureen and Melanie have a kind of routine. Maureen collects her (when we are here) and keeps her till about half past five, when Melanie picks her up. On rare occasions I collect Little L.  If Melanie is coming home early, she texts us not to come. Sometimes Norman picks up for her but I don’t think that happens often.

When Melanie is away overnight or in London till late Little L stays with us.

This has worked quite smoothly up till now. Melanie and Maureen are not particularly fond of each other. I admire the way they cooperate and work together in the child’s interest.

Now Melanie tells us she wants Little L to go to a school 30 miles away. It’s quite a famous school with a high proportion of pupils from overseas. Local children can come home at weekends. Melanie wants to put her name down. She will start there in three years time. Melanie goes through the advantages: high standards, a chance to get to know children from other countries. The brochure is circulated.

Norman was nodding as she made her points.

(His black labrador keeps going round the room, visiting each guest, then returning to sit by his armchair, its head at his elbow.)

“What about the fees?” Maureen asks. Melanie say she and Norman will take full responsibility, but an offer to share the fees will be very welcome. I know it’s an expensive school, probably getting on for £30,000 a year.

Norman nodded again, repeatedly. I can see why Melanie and Norman would appreciate some help!

I know the school. I have been there a couple of times. It has the feel of a small American college campus.

“So you are pushing her into the elite,” said Maureen. “She’ll be invited to other countries in the holidays….”

“No”, said Melanie, “I don’t see it that way. It’s about the quality of teaching and the breadth of experience…”

We weren’t ready for this discussion. I don’t even know Maureen’s views. I know she went to a state school. Amanda went to a local private school after attending the primary school in the village.

Amanda, who had not spoken before, said: “I think Maureen’s right. You are pushing her into the elite. I don’t like that….”

A shadow of annoyance crossed Melanie’s face but she was determined to stay cool and controlled. “Norman and I have joint guardianship. The decision is ours….”.

“I don’t think we can go against Maureen and Amanda….”, said Norman.

I think that took Melanie by surprise, but, once again, she handled it well and said: “Then I guess we will have to leave it there for the moment,” and she went to pick up the  brochure as if to say “The meeting is closed”.

So Norman was prepared to stand in her way, stymie her plan?

“I don’t think so,” said Maureen. “He’s not unaligned. I think he is being quite smart. Forcing the decision would have led to a chasm of bitterness.”

Later she said that at the conference she had been picturing Norman as the original Old Grey Wolf with a friendly small-brained subspecies beside him, to amuse and soften up the guests.

The Paris conference on climate change is over.

Two weeks ago the man called Jihadi John was killed by a targeted drone. They showed footage of him as a London schoolboy, saying goodbye to his class mates on his last day at school. He was slight. He stood aside with his hand over his mouth. (They say he had been teased about bad breath and that gesture had become habitual).

We have seen him behead many hostages.

A day later 130 people were killed in Paris. President Hollande called it an act of war. But France is already at war with ISIS. It is bombing their bases in Syria.