The taxi made a sharp turn to the right. Crispin took the opportunity to kick his brother who said: ‘Hi! Watch your great feet where you put them. Oh! Sorry.’

‘There’s the river,’ said Crispin, ‘we’re nearly home.’

‘Gosh, I’m starving. Are you starving, William?’ Robin enquired.

‘You bet,’ said William.

They drew up and stopped.

The two little boys tumbled out and ran up the steps while Crispin paid off the taxi.

Emily opened the door and the boys went in, Robin loudly asking if it was time for lunch and saying that he and William were rattling-empty. William shook hands and was not talkative. Peregrine came out to the hall and ran his fingers over William’s hair. ‘Hullo, young fellow,’ he said. ‘Nice to see you.’

‘Hullo, sir.’

‘I’m afraid I’ve got disturbing news for you. You know Sir Dougal died very unexpectedly last night, don’t you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, we’ve been trying to decide what to do: whether to continue with someone else in the part or close down for a week and then rehearse and re-open with a revival. We have almost decided on the latter policy, in which case the play will have to be chosen. There are signs of a return to popularity of the sophisticated romantic drama. Christopher Fry, for instance. Your immediate future depends, of course, on our choice which will have to be made tonight. There has been one suggestion of a play we used years ago for the gala opening of this theatre. It’s a small cast and one of the characters is a boy. I wrote it. If we choose that play, we will suggest you read for the part. You die at the end of Act I but it is an extremely important part while you’re with us.’

William said: ‘Could I do it?’

‘I think so. But we’d have to try you, of course. You may not suit.’

‘Of course.’

‘The character is Hamnet Shakespeare, Shakespeare’s son. I thought I might as well tell you what we’re thinking about. You’re a sensible chap.’

‘Well,’ said William dubiously, ‘I hope I am.’

‘Lunch,’ cried Emily.

Peregrine found in his place at table a sheet of paper and on it in her handwriting a new casting for The Glove by Peregrine Jay. He looked from it to her. ‘Extraordinary,’ he said. ‘Two minds with but a single thought. Or something like that. Thank you, darling.’

‘Do you like the idea? Or have you grown out of your play?’

‘We’re in such a state I don’t know what I think. I’ve been reading it, and I fancy I still quite like it.’

‘It wouldn’t matter that it was running years ago at the Dolphin at the time of that other messy business?’