“We’re okay. We managed to keep the house. When I joined the Socialism Today management collective, the office lawyers recommended that we put it in her name, that and the car. So it could have been worse, I suppose.”

Lindsay felt anger rising, a taste as distinctive as bile. “And the union just stood by and let this happen?”

“Lindsay, the executive committee were in Tom Jack’s pocket. He said crawl, they said, how low. Sure, there were plenty of people in the union jumping up and down about it, but nobody walking the corridors of power gave a shit about a wee magazine with a dozen journalists and a nasty habit of bursting balloons. The trouble is, Lindsay, this union isnae for the rank and file any more. And until we get rid of Tom Jack once and for all, nothing’s going to get any better. He’s got to go.”

Lindsay stood up and stretched. “I don’t think I can take any more of this debate. Are they open?”

Dick glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes ago. What are we doing, wasting good drinking time?”

In spite of the earliness of the hour, the student union bar was doing a brisk trade. Dick ordered a pint of bitter and turned to Lindsay. “What’re you for?”

“D’you know, I don’t think I can face drink,” she said in a tone of incredulity. “You’d better make it a mineral water.”

Dick shook his head in sorrow, but ordered it nevertheless. “You’ve been away too long.”

Before Lindsay could leap to her own defense, the double doors of the bar swung open and Laura Craig strolled in. Her tailored trousers and long sweater were as close as Lindsay had ever seen her to casual clothes. “Hey, Laura,” one of the delegates at the bar called. “Shouldn’t you be buying the drinks? We’ve all read Conference Chronicle—you’re the only one here that’s on expenses!”

Laura smiled. “I wish,” she said. “Mine’s a vodka and ginger beer. Make it a large one, or else I’ll set Miss Moneypenny on you!” She moved across to the group of men, succumbing willingly to their raucous teasing.

“Played the room like a fiddle,” Lindsay said.

“You’ve always had the knife into the Vogue Vamp. You’re not seriously telling me you believe that guff?” Dick asked.

Lindsay sighed. “Of course I don’t. Even her worst enemy couldn’t have come up with something that ludicrous.”

Dick emptied his glass and dumped it on the bar. “I’d better be on my way. I’ve got to go down to Standing Orders Sub-Committee. I’ve got an emergency motion to propose for the membership and organization order-paper.”

“Oh? What about?”