‘How well you know her.’ Nicholas grinned. ‘One questions whether a toy boy is a good cause.’ Laura did not respond to this. ‘But there may be treasures in that attic,’ Nicholas prevaricated. ‘One can’t be too careful. Priceless Ming vases used as umbrella stands, one reads in the paper,’ he said, laughing.

‘That’s not very likely.’ It was Laura’s turn to laugh. ‘Quite a lot of stuff was put there by me, things the dustmen refused to move.’

‘Oh those dustmen! Bone idle scroungers.’

Laura blinked her eyes, which were watering from the wind, and sniffed, twitching a nose that was a feminine version of Nicholas’. ‘I know you vote Tory,’ she said as she stepped aside to allow a woman pushing a double buggy to pass.

‘One should not pander to the unemployed,’ said Nicholas, stepping back close to her.

‘So I have frequently heard you say. We are blocking the pavement,’ said Laura.

‘I also saw you chatting to him at the concert the other night.’

‘I have an idea he once worked in a fish shop,’ said Laura, sowing a red herring in Nicholas’ mind.

‘I thought you were interested in that Rumanian conductor (that was pretty trashy stuff, wasn’t it?). Isn’t it a bit of a comedown to switch to a fishmonger?’

‘The Rumanian has gone back to Romania.’

‘A communist country, no joy there, I agree. One could see you weren’t much interested but he wasn’t lame, was he?’

‘Not so that you’d notice.’

‘And this Claud Bannister, shall you lame him?’

‘The traffic warden has just stuck a ticket on the windscreen of your car, Nicholas.’ A man in a tweed hat adorned with salmon flies tossed the information over his shoulder as he elbowed past Laura. ‘While you stand there gassing like an old maid, blocking the way of legitimate shoppers, you get ticketed. Just wait till they bring clamps to the town!’ His voice faded as he hurried out of earshot.

‘Damn and blast, that’s the third this month,’ said Nicholas. ‘Your fault for keeping me talking,’ he said nastily.

Laura smiled. ‘Too bad. Tough,’ she said.

‘He’s a bit young for a toy boy,’ Nicholas niggled.

‘I heard he was a lift boy in some hotel.’ Laura tried a fresh herring.

‘What versatility! Those tight trousers and bumfreezer jackets. Not my style, alas. I would hardly think—’

‘Nicholas,’ said a tweedy lady burdened with shopping, ‘that fiend of a warden has stuck a ticket on your—’

‘I know, I know,’ cried Nicholas, furiously. ‘What’s it got to do with you, you silly cow?’ He began to move back down the street to his car.

Laura watched Nicholas go with detachment. Then she shouted after him, ‘I’ll treat you and Emily to a booze-up tonight, how about it? A pub crawl?’

Nicholas waved an arm in acknowledgment. Laura continued on her way, leaning slightly into the wind, protecting her face with her scarf, wondering why she felt protective towards Claud; he wouldn’t thank me for the fishmonger or the lifts, she thought, but maybe he will when he’s famous.