‘Come on, we’re late to class,’ said Caroline, speeding up the corridor.

In all the furore Adele had forgotten what she had been about to ask Caroline.

*

It was a few days later when Glynn called at Peter’s apartment again. Peter ignored the doorbell at first; he was too busy entertaining two fashion models he had picked up the previous night.

When the ringing of the doorbell became insistent he slung on the jeans that he’d dropped on the bedroom floor in his haste to bed the two beauties, and he went out to the hall to see who it was. Peter pulled open his front door and found Glynn standing outside, looking exasperated.

‘You took your time,’ Glynn said. Then, as he took in Peter’s semi-undressed state despite the fact that it was mid-afternoon, he grinned before asking, ‘You been busy?’

Peter smiled back and said, ‘Hang on a minute.’

He left Glynn in the living room while he told the two girls to get dressed and go home. He couldn’t risk anyone overhearing his conversation with Glynn. Once he’d seen the girls leave his apartment, Peter came back into the living room where three champagne glasses and two empty bottles still littered the coffee table.

‘Got any news?’ he asked Glynn as he poured them each a tumbler of brandy and sat down.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Glynn. ‘But I don’t think you’re gonna like it.’

‘Go on,’ said Peter, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply.

‘I saw Dave in the Sportsman’s. He was having a long chat with Steve Miller.’

‘Did he see you?’

‘Don’t think so. I was on the other side of the bar. I peeped through a couple of times. He must have been talking to him for a good fifteen minutes from what I saw.’

‘I never knew they were friends,’ said Peter, gripping his brandy glass tightly till his knuckles turned white.

‘Well, Pete, they looked pretty fuckin’ cosy to me.’

‘The double-crossing bastard!’ Peter cursed.

‘There’s more,’ said Glynn. ‘I wanted to be sure so I checked with a mate of mine. He reckons Dave has been seeing Steve Miller a lot and they both score from the same supplier.’

‘You’re fuckin’ joking!’ said Peter, his face turning crimson.

‘Wish I was, Pete.’

Peter got up and started pacing his apartment. ‘Who is this mate? Is he kosher?’ he demanded.

‘Smithy? Yeah, course he is. I wouldn’t have taken his word for it otherwise.’

‘And can he be trusted not to let things go any further?’

‘Sure. I’ve already put him straight on that.’