He fished one of them out of the pocket of his waistcoat. ‘Only given out to the right sort of people in the right sort of places.’ He handed her one with a flourish. ‘There you go.’

The flier looked like a music-hall poster. In that Victorian font it promised, in big letters, The Secret Metropolitan Gathering of which you Have All Heard so Much. Lesser attractions in boxes were noted as Invitations to Further Delights, That which Dare Not Speak its Name and Rum.

‘That which dare not speak its name?’ Oh. That had been a question, hadn’t it? But surely she would ask some? If she was being herself. Playing a part.

He feigned shock. ‘I dare not say. Obviously.’

‘Only, that was what Oscar Wilde called being gay…’

‘That’s mainstream now. This is … truly blinkin’ underground.’

She laughed again and carefully slipped the flier into her waistcoat pocket. ‘Right.’ The people from the New Age fair wouldn’t have allowed themselves a flier. She looked around the room. Had they even got the right place? Maybe this was just a sort of … copy, a cargo cult, weekend punks. She saw Costain. He had been looking at her. He’d told her not to worry if she happened to look at him. Being herself, she would sometimes look at him. He looked weird, all buttoned up like that, his head bent over his book while all around him people were chatting. She saw one of his fingers resting on the words, and wondered if he was really reading them. He moved his fingers as if he was, and then he delicately turned a page.

She looked back to the bloke at the bar, because he’d started to look in the same direction, and then took her own gaze over to the bearded bloke by the stairs. He was still reading too, paying absolutely no attention to all the bright young things who were gathering around him. He looked up from his book, as if feeling her watching him … and, oh, that might actually be true … and made eye contact with her for a significant length of time. She tensed, expecting him to check her bar code. He didn’t. He looked back to his book again.

*   *   *