They walked on in silence; a pheasant scratching in the hedge looked up startled, blundered clumsily out into the field, whirred across misty grasses.

‘If you did clear off … to London, I mean, know anyone?’

‘A few. Mostly her friends though. Tacky theatre, you know.’

‘I’m her friend.’

‘No. Not like that. I didn’t mean you.’ He looked up quickly into the older man’s face. ‘Sorry. Not you. Known you all my life.’

‘A long time anyway.’

‘No, not you. What she calls the “thinking” set. The Young. She wants to be with thinking people. Her “thinking” people are all into jeans, pot, politics, the Workers’ Revolutionary Party and fuck the Queen. Know what I mean? This is a quiet Sunday, because she’s learning her lines. But most Sundays, Christ! It’s like a bloody pub in the Fulham Road. Of course she pays for it all. The booze, food, ciggies all that … they wouldn’t come otherwise: it’s all free hand-outs. She can’t bear to be alone, see?’

‘Yes, I see.’ Desmond laughed wryly. ‘A bit different from the old days, eh? Do you remember them? Too young, I suppose.’

‘Oh no. I remember them all right. The Hurlingham days. Handing round the peanuts. The caterers carting round the food, plus a ruddy butler for the evening. Rented flowers, and all those dud scripts stacked neatly on the coffee table; so everyone could see them.’

Desmond smiled through the drifting mist. ‘Didn’t miss much did you?’

‘Not a bloody thing. All I had to do was watch. And listen. Little boys should be seen but not heard. Sat there. Or handed round the peanuts: then off to beddy-byes with that hag Sheila from Dublin’s fair city where the girls aren’t all pretty, and a ten minute read from “Winnie the Pissy Pooh”. God! I remember.’

‘Was it really that bad then? Seemed all right.’

‘That bad. Okay for you; she’s never been able to boss you around. She used to give poor old Jeremy a rough time. “Wet! Spineless! You with your mighty three inch cock!” It wasn’t a big house, I heard all I wanted to.’

‘Yes … she was a bit bossy. Still is.’

‘She’s got to be boss. Can’t take it any other way, wants to be on top all the time. You can’t boss successes so easily. So she gets hold of the failures, like the lot who come down here. She can boss the shit out of them, they can’t answer back.’

They reached a gap in the hedge, Desmond stopped. ‘Not going down there; all plough, and I’ve got my London shoes on … forgot my wellies in the hurry.’ He fumbled about in his jacket pocket. ‘If things get, well, you know … if you decide to clear off, and I don’t think you should, mind you, I agree with Decca that education is bloody important and all that, a good speaking voice and so on, but if you do want to skip off, to think things over, so to speak, this is where I am.’ He handed him a business card. ‘Moviedecor Ltd. That’s me. Goldhurst Road, Shepherd’s Bush … just off the Green.’