When he got up from the floor the barman was already in Benny’s face, telling him to bugger off sharpish, no mistake. Benny was shaking his head, not disputing the marching orders, but ruing the punch he’d delivered. A little more precision, John’s teeth might have made a pretty necklace. As it was, he simply had a bloodied nose.

“Misunderstanding,” said John. “Just a misunderstanding.” He made to pick up his stool.

“Don’t you worry, sir, I’ll see to that.”

He cleaned himself up in the gents, assured the barman there was no need to trouble the police, and left. It was brighter outside than he’d been expecting, or maybe that was just his head ringing unnecessary changes. When was the last time he’d been hit? Must have been at school. On the other hand the next time might be on the cards already, because here was Benny Manors again. But he had his palms showing, indicating he wasn’t about to throw another punch. The limpy git.

“You asked for that,” was what he said.

Actually, he might have had a point.

“But I’ll tell you how I plan to make it up.”

And he did.

“So tell me, John, where’s our Benny? And what’s our Benny up to?”

“Well,” John said, and toyed with the possibility of leaving it at that. Looked at philosophically, while Edward’s questions remained unanswered, the possibility of John’s being able to answer them remained alive, as did John’s future and, indeed, John himself. Not that he seriously thought these two were going to kill him. On the other hand, if Edward didn’t look precisely like someone who’d killed people before, he did look like someone who’d received news of other people having been killed with perfect equanimity. Which was enough of a prompt to allow John to get to the end of a sentence: “Well, he moves around a bit.”

“He does, does he? I’m assuming you mean residentially speaking, John. Because the information I have regarding Benny Manors is that his mobility is seriously compromised. Not about to launch into a rumba without warning, is he?”

“He doesn’t like to be tied down,” said John. “Feels the need for flexibility.”

“Again, I would cite the construction work done on his leg. Except I suspect you’re going to tell me you’re speaking metaphorically, aren’t you? You’re going to tell me Benny Manors fancies himself a free spirit, just one Volkswagen camper van short of a trip to Kathmandu.”

“Well . . .”

“Or put another way, what you’re telling me, John, is that the address currently on file for Benny Manors—the file you’re in charge of keeping up to date, I don’t need to remind you, except it seems I do—that address is not actually his address, which would explain why he’s not there now, and hasn’t been for some considerable time. Would I be right in summing up the situation in that fashion, John?”

“. . . Yes.”

Edward sighed.