Daisy said: “I can’t wait to see the picture!”

Hank rattled his car keys impatiently. Maybe he found baby talk boring. Or, Dave thought, perhaps he did not like the baby taking the spotlight away from him.

Evie said: “Oh, my God, look at the time. Bye, everyone. Congratulations again, Walli.”

As they were leaving, Dave said: “Hank, are the Kords really not going to record ‘Love Is It’?”

“Really. When they take against something, they’re a stubborn lot.”

“In that case . . . could Walli and I have the song for Plum Nellie? We’ve got an audition in January with Classic Records.”

“Sure,” said Hank with a shrug. “Why not?”

• • •

Lloyd Williams asked Dave to step into his study on Saturday morning.

Dave was about to go out. He was wearing a horizontally striped blue-and-white sweater, jeans, and a leather jacket. “Why?” he said pugnaciously. “You’re no longer giving me an allowance.” The money he earned playing with Plum Nellie was not much, but it was enough for Tube fares, drinks, and occasionally a shirt or a new pair of boots.

“Is money the only reason for speaking to your father?”

Dave shrugged and followed him into the room. It had an antique desk and some leather chairs. A fire smoldered in the grate. On the wall was a picture of Lloyd at Cambridge in the thirties. The room was a shrine to everything that was out of date. It seemed to smell of obsolescence.

Lloyd said: “I ran into Will Furbelow at the Reform Club yesterday.”

Will Furbelow was the head of Dave’s school. Being bald, he was inevitably known as None Above.

“He says you’re in danger of failing all your exams.”

“He’s never been my biggest fan.”

“If you fail, you will not be allowed to continue at the school. That will be the end of your formal education.”

“Thank God for that.”

Lloyd was not going to be riled. “Every profession will be closed to you, from accountant to zoologist. They all require you to pass exams. The next possibility, for you, is an apprenticeship. You could learn to do something useful, and you should think about what you might like: bricklaying, cooking, motor mechanics . . .”

Dave wondered whether Dad was out of his mind. “Bricklaying?” he said. “Do you even know me? I’m Dave.”

“Don’t sound incredulous. These are the jobs people do if they can’t pass exams. Below that level, you could be a shop assistant or a factory hand.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“I was afraid you would do this, close your eyes to reality.”

Dad was the one closing his eyes, Dave thought.

“I realize you’re getting beyond the age where I can expect you to obey me.”

Dave was startled. This was a new approach. He said nothing.

“But I want you to be clear about where we stand. When you leave school, I expect you to work.”

“I am working, quite hard. I play three or four nights a week, and Walli and I have started trying to write songs.”