“And a good person. Much better than me. Those beautiful women who hung off my every word … they were where it all went wrong. I had a loving wife and a kid on the way and for so long, for so long I resisted temptation. I felt so good about that. So righteous. It didn’t last. That strength didn’t last.”

“What did Oscar Wilde say? I can resist everything except temptation.”

“A smart man, that Mr Wilde.”

“He was known for it,” said Javier. “So you floundered. You made a mistake. You’re only human.”

Virgil laughed again, this time without humour. “That’s what I said. That’s how I justified it to myself. I’m only human. As if being human meant being weak, or unfaithful, or cruel. She wasn’t like that. She never hurt me like that. I wasn’t only human, Javier, I was only me.”

“But she took you back.”

Virgil shifted a little on the floor. “She was a fool to. I made her a truckload of promises I couldn’t keep. By then my star was fading, of course, and I didn’t have all those beautiful young women hanging off my every word anymore … So when it happened again, years later, when there was a beautiful young woman who was enraptured with me, I was … flattered. And stupid. And weak.”

“That’s why your daughter doesn’t want to see you?”

“I wasn’t a good husband. I thought I was a good father, but obviously not. After her mother died, Tabitha got married, moved out to Alaska of all places … and eventually I followed. Been here ten years. Every day I’m ready to jump in that ridiculous car of mine and drive the forty miles to her house, to fall to my knees and beg her forgiveness and tell her how much I love her despite all my weakness and all my cruelty, and to tell her hey, look at my ridiculous car, big enough to take you and my grandkids away on a picnic or a … or a whatever. And all I need is the invitation.”

They went quiet.

Javier turned away again. “You’re an asshole,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“No reason in the world why that daughter of yours should forgive you. No reason why she should answer any of your calls.”

“None at all.”

“But I hope she does.”

Virgil nodded, used his sleeve to wipe his eyes.

“Knew it,” Javier muttered.

“You knew what?”

“I knew I still had it,” Javier said, and got to his feet slowly. When he was standing, the shackles fell from his wrists.

Virgil stared. “How did you do that?”

“Did you forget?” Javier asked, then spread his arms wide, and bowed with an extravagant flourish. “Javier Santorum, Circus Magician and Escape Artist.”

“You picked the lock?”

Javier grinned, holding up a thin pair of nose-hair tweezers.

“You beautiful man,” said Virgil.