As they drive along the estuary, he talks. He talks about Gielgud and Richardson and At Swim-Two-Birds. She has only a limited idea of what he’s talking about or what decade he is traversing in his mind. It’s like listening to someone speaking a foreign language you barely know, with only the odd phrase having meaning. It all seemed to have happened so long ago. People of his age find it hard to believe that she was born in 1989. To them, that is yesterday. But his strong face and deep, damp eyes and the comical hair are all engaged in the telling and she listens not to the sense but the music. Larry said to Ralph and Johnny had a hissy fit and then Brendan somebody or other vomited on the dinner table and heckled his own play at the Abbey and the Crowned Bard of Porthmadoc turned out to be a transvestite and she feels strongly that after all this heroic struggle he deserves better than to be cut off, penniless and homeless, unless the grant comes through. Which, in her opinion, is not likely to happen. She leaves him at the bus station. He’s picking up some money. One of the actors is making a detour to bring him the takings of £600. Two hundred has to go to a tow-truck driver, although she couldn’t follow the whole story.

‘Bye, Mr MacCleod. And congratulations on your production.’

‘You’re a sweet girl, Melissa.’

‘You got my name right, Mr MacCleod. Hurray!’

‘You’ll be at the first night. I will introduce you to Daniel. I can see you don’t believe me, but I will.’

‘I believe you. Honest.’

And she does in a way. She has to collect her clothes and take the taxi to the station in time for the London, Paddington train. The hotel the editor has recommended for its proximity to the meeting place is included in a shoppers’ special at a discounted fare. It’s designed to attract the peasants from the outlying districts to enjoy some shopping in London.

Artair arrives by taxi at the scene of the breakdown. The driver of the horse box is unapologetic. As far as he is concerned it’s a natural disaster and nothing to do with him. He says it’s one of those things. The tow-truck arrives and Artair hands over the money, a third of the previous night’s takings. He sits with the driver in the cab of the horse box as they are towed in the direction of Newquay. He uses the time – they are moving slowly – to think about Fleur who will soon be a very rich widow. He has never allowed money to dominate his life. It wasn’t his idea that he should receive a pay-off, but Harry’s. It was humiliating, done with a forensic coldness. But the arrangement has allowed him to run his theatre company and live modestly.