‘What is really happening?’ Laura took what she recognised would be Claud’s mother’s definition of a tight grip. ‘Is it serious?’

‘Hard to tell. I don’t know the man. I gather he was psyched up, all joy over his reviews, very very happy, then yesterday morning this. He shut himself up up there and won’t come out.’

‘Ah.’

‘Making a meal of it.’

‘Oh.’

‘Wants to see you though, shouted something to that effect to Mavis.’

‘Is his mother there?’

‘She was, but she went home, said his father did this sometimes. Brave lady.’

Laura did not know what to make of this.

‘I’d say it would be a good idea if you could manage to come down,’ said the man quietly.

‘Not a laughing matter? Mavis sounds—’

‘No,’ said the man. ‘No laughs.’

‘I’ll be there in an hour and a half,’ said Laura.

Traffic was still pouring out of London onto the motorway; it would be rash to hurry. On the back seat the cat mewed in her basket, annoyed by the interruption to her routine. Laura found herself gripping the wheel unnecessarily tight as her mood swung between anger and fear. Why should she feel responsible? What was there to be afraid of? She was guilty of encouraging Claud to write. What was injured pride doing to him? Was he not an upper and downer, had she not on first meeting him called him Otis?

Overtaking a car she gave herself a fright by passing too close, nearly hitting it; the driver blasted his horn. Laura broke into a sweat. She should not have drunk such a strong whisky.

When she walked into the Kennedy kitchen, she said, ‘Well? What’s happening, what’s going on?’ aggressive from nerves. Ann, Mavis and Margaret Bannister were sitting round the table. A man she vaguely recognised but could not place leaned against the wall.

Ann Kennedy said, ‘You are responsible for putting Claud in my loft, you get him out of it.’ She was belligerent, her normal easy temperament in abeyance. Laura braced herself for a statement that the house was respectable, but Ann said no more.

Mavis said: ‘He’s got a gun.’ Her eyes were shining, thrilled.

Margaret Bannister said, ‘I thought I’d better come back as you were coming down. He won’t speak to me. This is all so ridiculous. He should have joined a proper profession with a pension to look forward to, not been encouraged to fan about in an attic.’

The three women stared at Laura, anxious, excited, accusing. Mavis emitted a little splutter of mirth. ‘We thought we’d wait for you before sending for—’ began Ann.

‘Fire, ambulance, police,’ chanted Mavis. Theatrical London had done marvels for Mavis’ self-confidence.

‘I’ll go up,’ said Laura.

‘I will come with you,’ said the man who had so far not contributed, and pushed himself away from the wall.