“I always have been,” George said. He took his glass of brandy from the waiter. “That’s the secret of my success.” His voice was as light and cool as it had always been; nothing could touch him.

“Well, George, what do you think of our new candidate?”

“I’ve already told you. We need new blood. Maybe Joe’ll wake us up a bit. I only want to be sure he’ll be happy with us. If an old man’s memory isn’t playing him tricks, Joe used to be a rebel once. Didn’t you, Joe?”

“You’re not so old,” I said. “But I was never exactly a revolu­tionary.”

He smiled faintly. “Not exactly that. And you’ve been a mem­ber of the club for quite a while.” He looked at the green and buff walls and grimaced. “Not that it proves anything. Half our members vote Labour. They come for the beer and the billiards. And to get away from their wives.”

Brown stood up. “I’d better go back to mine. She’ll be won­dering if I live here. Have a good trip, George.” He turned to go, then came back and, to my surprise, shook my hand. “I’ll be seeing you, Joe.”

We sat in silence as he strode out, self-assured, heavy-footed, the fixer who had fixed everything to his complete satisfaction.

“A red star on your composition,” George said. He hadn’t missed the handshake.

“The grass grows green over the battlefield,” I said.

The room was filling up now. Everyone’s eyes seemed to be in our direction; the general reaction was one of mild shock.

“It’s because they don’t see you very often,” George said.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’ll get used to it. Tell me, how’s Tiffield these days?”

“Keeping his strength up.”

“You know he once was full of mad passionate love for your mother-in-law?”

“It’s news to me.” When someone gives you information always be grateful for it. And if you know it already, why deprive your informant of his pleasure? I assumed a look of interest.

“It’s donkey’s years ago of course. Before they were married. Brown bounded ahead of Tiffield – and there you are. I doubt if Tiffield’s ever forgiven him for it.”

“If Tiffield knew her as well as I do,” I said, “he’d thank him on his bended knees.”

George shook his head. “Forty years ago she’d look like Susan, not your mother-in-law.”

And forty years from now, Susan would look like my mother-in-law. Time went quickly in the green and buff country.

“It’s useful to know these things,” George said. “You still don’t think of businessmen as human, do you?”

“I try.”

“Try harder,” he said. “If I were you I wouldn’t forget it. Your father-in-law thinks that Tiffield’s changed. He hasn’t. You’re walk­ing on a minefield.”