He glowed with enthusiasm for the machine, and I felt the bile rise in my throat again. The grey closed in. Houses for some, many houses; being ignored by a machine for the rest. It was no way to live. My brow was cold with sweat and I could feel the tremor in the hand I raised to it.

‘Are you all right?’ De Chauncey asked, frowning.

‘Uh, yeah,’ I said. I didn’t know how much longer I could go on – I had to get home, to rest, above anything else. Was it home, though? What was it? It was a lash against my back to keep me working, a phantom of finance.

‘Was there anything else?’ De Chauncey asked, visibly anxious to get away. No more value could be realised from the conversation, it seemed.

‘Yeah – yes,’ I said. I had to go on. ‘I should introduce myself – I’m Jack Bick, I work for—’

‘For Eddie!’ De Chauncey exclaimed. He raised his head and rolled back on his heels, reeling a little at the happy thought of Eddie. ‘Love Eddie. You were going to come and see me, weren’t you?’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,’ I said. ‘I’ve not been well … It’s been a bad week.’

‘You don’t look too well,’ De Chauncey said. ‘Do you need to sit down? Glass of water?’

‘I was wondering if you might be able to do the interview, if you could just spare thirty minutes …’

De Chauncey sucked his teeth loudly. ‘Next week?’ he said with a grimace.

‘I’ve got to take something in tomorrow,’ I said. I no longer cared how desperate or unprofessional I sounded. ‘I’m sorry, I know that’s not your problem.’

‘Well, I’m impressed you came out here when you’re ill,’ De Chauncey said. It was disorienting that he was being so reasonable. Then he shrugged, palms up, a motion that took in the whole room around him. ‘But, you know, it’s an important night for me …’

I sagged. ‘I understand.’

‘I’ll tell you what,’ De Chauncey said, flicking out a shining, clanking wristwatch with a practised gesture of display. ‘This’ll wrap up at six or so … about an hour. Where do you live?’

‘Pimlico,’ I said.

‘Perfect. I’ll be heading back to Chelsea. I’ll give you a lift. We can talk in the car.’

My legs near failed me – I rocked to one side, and leaned against the sink. ‘That’s great. That’s fantastic. Thank you.’

‘Have a sit in reception, you look like you’re on your last legs,’ De Chauncey said. ‘I’ll find you when I’m done here.’