‘Christopher – do come in. Nice to see you.’ Catherine always looked forward with interest to the one-to-one sessions with her varied mature students; they gave her an interesting insight into the personality behind the writing, and occasionally a chance to view their written words in a more illuminating light. Christopher intrigued her. Urbane was the adjective that sprang to mind on first meeting, and yet he seemed full of contradictions. She and Giles and Isobel, discussing the intake, had agreed that he was the dark horse of this particular group. Behind the outward social aplomb, there was a guarded quality about him.

‘I hope you’ve recovered from Stanley’s onslaught?’ he asked politely. ‘It was too bad that he was so rude to you. Quite unwarranted.’

‘I was a bit shaken,’ she admitted, ‘but at the same time I couldn’t help feeling rather sorry for him, poor little man. It can be a dangerous disappointment to mix wishful thinking with cold reality.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Christopher wondered if she thought he was in danger of this himself.

‘Not, however, in your case,’ said Catherine, reading his thoughts and coming to the point at once. ‘I told you the other day – you can write. I think you know it yourself anyway.’

‘I imagine that’s what Stanley thinks too,’ said Christopher drily. He nodded towards the stack of typed A4 sheets of paper. ‘I suppose I do think – or hope – that I have a feeling for words, but whether I can ever turn it into something that might be publishable in a commercial market is quite another matter. I feel guilty to have presented you with such a large chunk of writing. I’m sure you won’t have had time to do more than glance at it. It would be quite unrealistic to think you could read everybody’s magnum opus in a couple of nights.’

‘Well yes – although I do read extremely fast. I have to in my profession. Normally I would have read some sample bits and done a bit of skimming to form a general impression and we’d take it from there. However,’ Catherine paused and looked at Christopher’s face, which gave nothing away. ‘I have to tell you that in this case I have not only read your book – all of it – but I couldn’t put it down.’ She added: ‘And that’s most unusual, I assure you.’

‘But that’s amazing! Wonderful!’ Christopher walked over to the window, hands in pockets, and gazed out for a moment. He was astonished to discover how shaky he felt, a measure of how much her verdict meant to him. ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am,’ he said. ‘Thank you. That’s made my day.’