Which meant John was early, but that was better than being late.

He could kill time any number of ways—there were shows to see, galleries to visit—but shows cost a fortune and galleries were full of art, so cafés and bars it was. The first was Italian: reasonable coffee, a stool by the window. Benny had been here last week for breakfast. It was only morning, but felt like evening already. John had been up hours. And had work scheduled that obviously wasn’t going to happen, so spent twenty minutes on the phone while his coffee cooled, making apologetic calls to clients he wouldn’t be seeing. He liked to think he made a difference to their lives—made them feel important, or at least, remember that they’d once been so—but the equanimity with which his absence was greeted caused him to wonder. On the other hand, little about his current situation didn’t cause him to question something or other. If he remained in one place long enough, he’d doubt himself out of existence.

And there was money to think about; there was always money. He’d saved on rent these past eight months; on the other hand, what he’d saved on rent he’d spent on drink, to quell the anxiety caused by the means he’d adopted of saving rent. Life was a series of loops, each smaller than the last. He did sums on a scrap of paper: he wasn’t carrying that much debt, if you didn’t count the credit cards, but his bank balance didn’t look healthy. Where did money go? If he could only answer that, he’d be free to live a happy, healthy life. Where did money go? All he did was eat and drink. He bought another coffee at London prices while he pondered. If he was kicked out of Solly’s flat—when he was kicked out—best-case scenario, he’d be looking at a room in a multi-occupancy hovel, unless he could work his way round Diana Taverner first. She was the key. He had to work his way round Diana Taverner, which meant he had to be really, really lucky. He sipped his coffee, stared out of the window, and Benny Manors walked into the café and sat two stools along.

It was like being on a safari, or visiting a wildlife park, when you realise a lion has just wandered into view. First of all, don’t scare it away.

Secondly, don’t get eaten.

Instead of wasting time not believing what had just happened, John went with it, putting the scrap of paper in his pocket and gazing out of the window: sunshine and strangers, tourists and taxis. Meanwhile Benny had a newspaper and was turning to the back pages. Cricket. He hadn’t looked John’s way. And without his having placed an order, food was brought to him: scrambled egg and sausages. Definitely his regular breakfast haunt.