Since they’d come up in the lift, she’d been dispensing facts about the renovations Mr Wright had made to the old suite. The gold wall finishes and mouldings. The mirrored discs inlaid into the arches of the windows, backlit to create a fuller sense of space. The baby grand piano and the harp: ‘necessities’. The jet-black lacquered stools and chairs that he’d designed and tasked a few of his apprentices at Taliesin with constructing (and delivering from Wisconsin in a van). The plush wool carpet, which she’d said was ‘oatmeal’, and those long red velvet drapes. The glinting chandelier was an original, she’d told him: ‘It’s a relic from the days of Dior.’ But this had only rattled him, upset his conscience. To be in a gilded room that spanned the length of most school buildings while, across the park, a million other people had to go without amenities – the thought of it had soured his mood. He’d not been able to get comfortable. His sister’s voice had spiked at him, repeating, Well, it didn’t take you long now, did it? Put your feet up. You’ll be asking them to call you Charles next. So he’d paced a bit, looked out of the window. From two storeys up, New York had even less appeal. All those sooted towers on 59th Street with their gravestone sadness. Flocks of bobbing heads accumulating at the crossings, waiting for permission to continue with their lives. ‘I can’t help thinking all of this is somehow not in keeping,’ he’d begun to say to Alice, but then somebody had wandered in to interrupt by asking her advice on papers in a file. ‘Sorry,’ she’d said. ‘Last time, Charlie. Please excuse me.’ When she’d come back in, it hadn’t felt appropriate to bring the matter up again. She was doing him a favour, after all. They’d sat and talked half-heartedly about his life, where he’d grown up. She’d never heard of Gillingham, or Borough Green, which pleased him. ‘Are you certain that he’s coming? I’ve been here for quite a while now.’

She hadn’t even glanced towards the wall clock. ‘Oh yes, Edgar spoke to him this morning. He’s already set up a few meetings for this afternoon. He’s definitely on his way. So just sit tight.’

‘Should I go through my portfolio again?’

‘Nah, trust me, he won’t even look at it until he gets a feeling for your character. He’s going to ask you why you want to be an architect, so get your answer ready – and it better not be stupid.’

At first, he hadn’t been too sure if she’d been smiling at him with conceitedness or camaraderie. ‘It’s good of you to wait with me like this. But if you’re busy, I’ll be all right on my own.’

She’d leaned back in her chair and flattened out the creases in her skirt. ‘Listen, Charlie, it’s because of me your meeting wasn’t scheduled right the first time. I think you ought to know that. It’s my fault. I thought that everything could be reorganized and, well, I didn’t think to check where you were travelling from. But I’ll be damned if I can’t fix this. Top of my agenda for today is making sure I get you in a room with him. And maybe, after that, you might forgive me, and it won’t reflect too badly on the man himself.’