Silas saw that the yelping crowd was making for him. Quite a few women in their midst, most of them past their best, sexually speaking, but drunkenness lent them renewed allure. God, what he wouldn't do for sex! A good, old-fashioned, township-style grope in the dark, hands running over smooth silk, and then a heavenly fuck up against a wall.

In the background, he saw Lydia and Gracie, aloof, disdainful. The sight of the two sisters haughtily framed in the lit-up doorway filled him with a sudden rage. To hell with you, he thought, so full of airs and graces.

Beside Alec was a balding man with the gait of a fading athlete, his strength now in his pride.

‘Silas, let me introduce you to Mr Moses Manning.’

‘Mapaks? My God, it is you, Mapaks!’

The man beamed.

Begs for recognition, even from a nobody like me, Silas thought. They hugged, Silas stoically inhaling an overpowering smell of brandy and Coke.

Moses ‘Mapaks’ Manning held Silas at arm's length and appraised him. ‘Doing a fine job!’

‘How are you, Mapaks?’

Alec intervened. This was no time for exchanging pleasantries. ‘Mapaks remembers that man who got away from the Vikings.’

‘He doesn't!’ Silas protested.

Alec addressed the group who had followed him out into the garden. They wanted to hear a good story. ‘Tell them, Silas, tell them how you fucken got away from the Vikings.’

Silas hesitated, and Alec poured a drink from the bottle in his hand, shoved it into Silas's fist. Lydia walked to the edge of the garden, where Silas could see her. She wanted to save him from himself, from the obvious need he had to make a fool of himself, and of her; he was still her husband, and wives took responsibility for what their husbands did, especially in the eyes of people like these.

He saw her and smiled, gave her one of his steady, defiant looks. Alec looked at the two of them and then grinned slyly. And suddenly Silas recalled that elated moment Alec was talking about. Lydia knew it by heart, she had heard it so often. He and Alec should have been troubadours, telling and retelling their sorry little stories, over and over again.

‘Okay,’ Silas said, turning to his audience. ‘Well, I'm sure you remember what it was like in those days, even going to movies was a real mission. There was this movie I wanted to see, Becket, with Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole. But would you believe it, no one wanted to go with me. Everyone said it was one of those boring high-buck movies. Except Alec, he said he would come along…’