She goes back to her desk and looks at some more pictures of Fleur. There’s one of her in a soft-porn film twenty years ago. She’s dressed as a stewardess in a very short skirt. In another she is wearing a gingham dress with a scalloped blouse and her hair is in bunches. In another she is wearing a sort of Lady of Shalott medieval dress. Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky . . . She has quite large boobs, and they are featured in every picture. In one comedy still she has a surprised-inn-keeper’s-daughter look, her eyes wide in mock horror. Her mouth is strange, pursed like a flower puckering hopefully for the kiss of a travelling bee. Like devoted fans, maybe the people who take these pictures love theatricality more than theatre. They are obsessed with the symbol rather than the thing itself. This comes to her straight from a lecture on Hegel, module 7.

Artair is on the phone.

‘Hello, Melinda, I need to talk to the editor.’

‘It’s Melissa.’

‘Melissa? Yes, you are probably right. You should know. Is he there?’

‘I will see if he’s free. He is probably in conference.’

She rings through.

‘Mr MacCleod wants to speak to you.’

‘Melissa, Artair MacCleod is one of those higher loonies, whose whole life is a paranoid performance. In the theatre this is just about acceptable. But we live in a harder world. I haven’t time to listen to his ravings. Just say I am in conference and see what he wants; ask him to write. That usually shuts them up. By the way, I like your blog so much I want two next week. I’ve had some emails, well, four at least, saying how good it is.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Mr MacCleod, the editor says he is in conference, but could you write to him? Or to me? By the way, I saw a lovely poster for the show in the community centre. Can you tell me what you want to speak about?’

‘No, it wouldn’t be appropriate.’

He sounds a little subdued now.

‘Oh, OK.’

‘Melinda, we are living in dangerous times.’

He rings off.

As she’s waiting for Steve in graphics to finish the layout on his professional Power Mac, she finds a message in her inbox from an address she doesn’t recognise, [email protected]

To melissa@It’s-all-out-there-somewhere.com

I have information that you may find helpful on the Artair MacCleod grant situation. If you are interested email me at the above address. Alan is not my real name. You must understand now that I am in a very risky situation, so we can only communicate on my terms.

He may be a crackpot. But there’s nothing to suggest that he is really interested in sex or a date.

To [email protected]

From melissa@It’s-all-out-there-somewhere.com