He sat in a cubicle and called Di Taverner. There was unexpectedly good reception. But then maybe a lot of business calls were made from wine bar toilets: he wouldn’t know.

“You’re in a bar,” she told him. “Surprise surprise.”

“I’m in a bar because Benny’s here,” he said. “I’ve made contact.”

“And what exactly is our Benny peddling that’s causing such a fuss?”

“Yes, well, I’m still working on that.”

She sighed emphatically enough that he could feel as well as hear it. “Do you remember what we said about second chances? Do you recall that part of our conversation?”

“It’s in hand.”

“Judging by the echo, it’s not the only thing in hand. Next time you give me an update, be holding more than your dick, John. It makes you look needy.”

Back at the booth, Benny’s cigarette had speeded up his metabolism, or slowed it down: whichever was required to make him a notch drunker than he’d been. It seemed a good moment to divide the rest of the bottle and suggest a second. There was an out-there chance he’d be able to claim it on expenses, John thought, a flash of optimism that crashed and burned when he discovered the price. Accounts would assume he’d bought a car. When he returned to the table, Benny was saying, “So your editor’ll just step on it, that what you’re saying? Because there are other papers out there. Other editors.”

“And they’ll all know we passed on it, Benny. And they’ll all know why.”

“None of it’s faked.”

“So you keep saying. And what we’ve seen and heard looks good. But until you tell us how you came to have hold of it, we’re not prepared to accept it as kosher. So please, Benny, if you want this story heard—and believe me, I do—then fill in the gaps, and we’ll take it from there.”

“You don’t sound drunk,” John complained.

“That’s because I’ve not been drinking. I mean, seriously, John. It’s barely lunchtime.”

He could have sworn he’d filled her glass at least once. The possibility that she’d been pouring it on the floor filled him with expensive horror.

Daisy stood. “I’m going for some fresh air. And also, you know. Pop in to the office and that sort of thing. Why not think it over, Benny? Maybe John can help. Flesh out the details, and I’ll run it past the paper one more time. But we’re getting short of options, okay?”

Then she was gone.

Benny reached for the bottle.

“I should probably have got her to pay for that,” said John. “Expenses.”

Benny rolled his eyes. “Always a little behind the curve, eh, John?”

He shrugged.

They continued to drink.

And then it was late afternoon, and they weren’t in the wine bar any more, but a nearby pub. There’d been some misunderstanding with Yol, John couldn’t recall the details. It might have involved payment. Benny’s limp didn’t get in the way of a stand-up row, nor impede him when a swift departure was required. Practice, John supposed. All of this, he was more spectator than participant. Didn’t stop Yol catching him on the back of the head with a wet tea towel on his way out.