Perhaps he is being a little too chatty here. Perhaps he should be more businesslike. He has seen a picture of Daniel’s lovely wife and it reminded him that he and Fleur were once a similarly golden couple. Fleur had just starred in his production of a banned Czech play in Twickenham – her Czech accent was good, although one critic wondered why a translation should be played with accents. She was a spy, sent in by the Communists to report on Václav Havel; instead she changed sides and fed her bosses disinformation. It didn’t end well for her character. Harry Trevelyan-Tubal backed the production. Later he offered to back a production of the play in the West End with Fleur in the lead, with what he called a more commercial director. The transfer to the West End lasted just seven weeks, but it achieved Sir Harry’s aim: Fleur became the third Lady Trevelyan-Tubal and gave up the theatre.

Anyway, dear Daniel, I am living in hope that you will take an interest in this project, and read the script. (Which, by the way, the university at Austin, Texas, famous for its collection of original manuscripts, has entered into negotiations to buy.) Please reply to me at the Lifeboat Theatre Company at the address above . . .

He seals the letter with some of the sealing wax he has bought to use on the Texas-bound manuscript. For Daniel he lights the candle and drops a splodge of boiling wax on to the envelope – some falls, inevitably, on to the remains of an Asda quiche – and presses the molten wax with his signet ring. Too late he realises that it would have been better to have taken the ring off first, because Daniel is now to receive a couple of hairs from his scalded knuckle along with the wax, which has extirpated them. The signet ring was a gift to him from Fleur when they were married. It has engraved on it the outline of a griffin. He gave her a curtain ring, in those days a recognised, and economical, sign of bohemian tendencies.