‘My God,’ he said, propping himself up on one elbow, ‘look what the cat dragged in.’

Vera made himself scarce.

‘How are you, Stephen? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

‘I prefer to remain incognito at the moment.’

There was nowhere to sit, the armchairs covered in clothes and books and records, and so I perched on the arm of the sofa near his feet. ‘You don’t look well, Stephen.’

‘Thank you for caring all of a sudden. What do you want?’

‘You should see a doctor.’

He put a hand to his chest. ‘Mine is a sickness no doctor can cure …’ He feigned a delicate cough, which became a real cough. ‘Isn’t this nice,’ he said, when he’d recovered. ‘Just like being at Reville again. Not much has changed, has it?’

‘I don’t know. Mervyn’s in prison.’

‘Poor little chicken.’

‘Gerald’s dead.’

‘No great loss.’

‘I’m living out of a suitcase at the Y.’

‘And I’m expiring rather decoratively in a hovel in Vauxhall. Aren’t we a marvellous advert for National Service.’ He saluted. ‘For Queen and Country! I’m sure Sergeant Kelsey would be proud.’

‘What happened, Stephen?’

‘The world turned, dear.’

‘And not in our favour.’

‘No.’ He moved his feet, patted the cushion next to him, and I sat. ‘It would appear not. Now why are you here?’

‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

‘Not, I presume, to propose marriage. Don’t answer that question. You want something from me.’

‘I was rather hoping …’

‘Here we go. Never wants me for myself.’

‘That you might know something about Gerald.’

‘Yesss … I thought it might be something along those lines.’

‘And do you?’

He shifted around, lay on his back and extended his feet across my lap. ‘What could a poor girl like me possibly know of such affairs?’

‘You told me you were the spider in the middle of the web, Stephen.’

‘That’s as may be.’ He reached to the floor, found a packet of cigarettes and lit up without offering me one. ‘But there’s knowing and there’s knowing, isn’t there?’

‘If it’s a question of money …’

He laughed, and dug me hard in the thigh with the ball of his foot. ‘Don’t presume too far on our long-standing friendship, Michael. I may be a hardened bitch, but I am still capable of being hurt.’

‘Sorry. I just thought I could help you out.’

‘Well, darling, let’s see. How much have you got? First of all, I’ll need a ticket to Istanbul, or perhaps Tokyo, or Moscow. Somewhere very far away indeed, where nobody could ever find me. Then of course I’ll need a new identity – I’m sure such things can be bought for a few thou – and a place to live. I’ll need an allowance, because I really don’t see how I can be expected to work in such a place. So, adding it all up, plus of course some appropriate new wardrobe, I should say about a hundred thousand pounds would do. Give or take a quid.’