“I’m fine,” he said. “Just talking about old times with Mr. Lamp­ton.” He giggled. “I know him, you see. He drives around Warley in a big white car. He doesn’t know me, though. I see him but he doesn’t see me. He lives at the top—”

“A friend of yours has just arrived,” Jean said, rather coldly.

“Mr. Lampton’s my friend. Everyone knows Mr. Lampton. He reminds me of dear old Warley. Dear little Warley, dear residen­tial Warley. I visit Warley now and again, you know. My mum lives on Tebbutt Street. At the bottom—”

A plump hand fastened on his shoulder. He turned round. “Judy, my love! I’ve been missing you all evening!” He took her by the waist and held her out at arm’s length. “God, you look won­derful. I’m going to monopolize you, absolutely monopolize you.” He took her to the long table near the tape recorder. “You look wonderful,” I heard him say again; then he whispered something to her and she laughed happily. For a second she looked the younger of the two; then her face became middle-aged and greedy again.

“He’s in advertising,” Jean said.

I grimaced.

“Don’t be bitchy,” she said. “It’s not your thing, darling, it really isn’t.”

“It isn’t me who’s been bitchy,” I said. “Who is he anyway? He knows me but I’m damned if I know him.”

“You mean you don’t know him?” She seemed incredulous.

“If he comes from Warley I might have seen him about the place.”

“His name’s Kelstedge.”

“I’ve heard it somewhere before. A long time ago.”

“Hasn’t Susan ever talked about him?” There was a sly smile on her face.

“Come off it,” I said. “Tell me the truth. They say the hus­band’s the last one to know—”

She laughed. “Jeff? He hardly ever goes to Warley. No, he’s an old flame. Extinct, in fact.”

The memory was coming to the surface now. The clerk who’d been run out of town by my father-in-law. He looked as if he’d run away.

“I suppose he’s told you all about it,” I said.

“He never discusses it.”