‘And then what?’

‘God, Camilla, isn’t that enough?’

‘Not for you it isn’t, no. But listen to me, Barney, and I’ll tell you something. I’ve never met a man yet who possesses the softness of tread, the easy stealth, the musical genius, and above all the social confidence, to beguile any rational woman of her senses. Men don’t come as impressive as that, more’s the pity.’ (This is supposed to make me feel better?) ‘The idea that they do, the fear that they might, lives only in other men’s brains. The saucy fiddler is a figure from male mythology. Just like Hardy’s flashing Sergeant. You’re all hot to know the secret of one another’s potency, you men. The woman is merely incidental – she simply serves as the post box you communicate through. In fact, you’re all just flashing and fiddling amongst yourselves. You’re queens, Barney, the whole pack of you. But especially you and Thomas Hardy. At least de Sade admitted that a loose woman was just a prelude to a tight boy.’

Yes, if Camilla were here she would say such things to me, and more. She always knew how to butter me up.

But Camilla isn’t here. To my great grief.

[4]

She took me back that night, since I had nowhere to stay and my cases were still in the post office, to her place. She didn’t live behind or above her school as I supposed she would but in a hamlet a mile or two from the village. As we drove into it I thought I recognized its name. Hadn’t you-know-who done something throbbingly unforgettable there?

‘No, that’s Trethis.’

‘What’s this then?’

‘This? This is Trethat.’