I mopped my forehead. When I took one hand away from the chair I felt suddenly dizzy; I swayed and put the hand back with the handkerchief still in it.

“You look a bit poorly,” he said. “Hadn’t you better sit down again?”

I took a deep breath. “I’ll be all right,” I said.

“I’ll get you something, if you like. Brandy? Whisky? Gin? Vodka? Sit down, lad. You look as if you need a drink.”

I took my hands away from the chair. “It’s nothing serious. I think I’ll go home.”

“You do, lad. It’s no use forcing yourself on when you feel sick.”

He looked every inch the father figure sitting there behind the big walnut desk, his face contorted into an expression of concern that didn’t really suit it. I turned away from him and walked slowly towards the door. As I reached it he called out my name. I turned my head towards him.

“You tried, Joe,” he said. “You tried hard.”

21

21

“I twisted his arm until he screamed,” Hethersett said.

“You’ve told me.”

I looked gloomily at the letter on top of my In basket.

“You wouldn’t like to twist the arms of some of these key­board people, would you?”

I handed him the letter.

“You’ll note the tone,” I said. “Real shock. We want the machines not next year, not the year after, but now. Don’t bother looking at the other letters, they’re all the same.”

He dropped the letter back in the basket.

“That’s how it goes,” he said. “After the spectacular coup comes the hard thankless drudgery.” He patted my shoulder. “What I did was easy, Joe. You’re the chap who has to follow it up, you’re the chap who has to look after the details. On the broad backs of men like you British business is founded.”

“That’s very nice of you,” I said. “But it isn’t going to make them deliver those keyboard machines any faster.”

“Engage more clerks,” he said. “Middridge will enjoy that. He has a broad back, too. Solid man, Middridge.”

“Didn’t you say something about seeing him this afternoon?” Hilda asked.

“So I did, love. And so I will. Keep at it, Joe.” He strolled out, whistling.

“I hope all his rabbits die,” I said. “That’s the seventh time that he’s reminded me how clever he was about Flamville’s. If he does it just once more I swear to God I’ll bash him.”

“He’s got a Judo belt,” Hilda said. “I can’t remember what colour.”

“The people I want to bash always have Judo belts. Or else they’re small arms experts or boxing champions. But why did he tell you? Is he afraid of you? Is he indicating that he’ll sell his honour dearly?”