He continued on his way. Ann had asked him to call at the fruit shop since he was too excited to work, and buy her six bananas and two pounds of Cox’s apples, here’s the money, no doubt she would soon be seeing him on television. (It was a pity she never read a book.) Passing the newsagent Claud bought two more copies of the paper. He would send a cutting to his mother, who only read The Guardian, and keep one for himself. Mavis had said he must keep a cuttings book. He was to meet Mavis in the wine bar to celebrate. It was lovely to sit at a table with Mavis. People commented audibly on her looks, the colour of her hair. Today, with luck, they would point him out to each other as a writer (if not today, they would soon). Alas that Terrence would not be there to wait on them. Since discovering Claud had written a novel that was about to be published, Terrence affected to have read Proust. Let him now read Lydia, but his own copy.

Carrying Ann’s bananas and apples, the extra copies of the newspaper, and his happy head high, Claud continued on his way, running into Nicholas and Emily outside the post office.

‘Hullo,’ said Nicholas, ‘our local author.’

‘Hullo,’ said Emily, ‘felicitations.’

‘Hullo,’ said Claud, exploding with smiles. ‘Have you seen the marvellous review of my book in The Times?’

Nicholas looked unusually intelligent. Emily smiled slyly. ‘Nicholas Shakespeare is so kind,’ she said.

In London on the bus, on her way to her workshop, Laura also read the review. By coincidence it shared among others on the arts page a preview of a series of concerts to be conducted by Clug the following autumn. It was a long time ago that he had conducted at the charity concert where she had met Claud. He had grown greatly in international stature since and Claud had become a writer. To pick up where one had left off was as far from Clug’s mode as her own. He would not, she thought, be sending her free tickets.

She was mildly irritated that her feelings for Claud were not as dispassionate as those she held for Clug. It would be churlish, though, to put off congratulating him. When she reached her studio she dialled Ann Kennedy’s number and asked for Claud.

‘He is out,’ said Ann. ‘I can give him a message. Shall I do that or will you ring again later? He is celebrating with Mavis.’

‘Just give him my congratulations, tell him how happy I am for him.’

‘Will do,’ said Ann.