‘Does it still hurt so much?’

‘Yes,’ Grant said. ‘Yes, my girl, it does.’

‘Why, though? Because people may still believe you cribbed?’

‘I suppose so—yes. The whole thing’s a nightmare.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Sophy said. ‘That’s beastly for you. But I can’t quite see—

‘What it’s got to do with this book—and Mailer?’

‘Yes.’

Grant said: ‘Was it at half past three last afternoon that we met for the first time?’

‘We’ve been thrown together. Like people in ships,’ Sophy said with a practical air that was invalidated by the circumstance of her being obliged to murmur.

‘Mailer kept the manuscript for three days.’

‘Why?’

‘He says because he flaked out. Cocaine. He showed me his arm to prove it. I don’t believe it for a moment.’

‘Was he waiting for a reward to be offered?’

‘He wouldn’t take it.’

‘Amazing!’ said Sophy.

‘I don’t think so. I don’t think he’s an addict. I think he’s a pusher in a big way and they never are. He took me to the place they’ve gone on to, tonight. Toni’s. It’s a highly tarted-up junk and flop shop. Caters for all tastes. It’s outrageous. Where was I?’

‘You were going to say—’

‘Why he waited three days. Because it took him that amount of time to cook up a novella with a resemblance in theme to an incident in Simon. He asked me to read it and give him a criticism. I’m certain now that he’d opened my case, read the MS and deliberately concocted this thing. It had all the characteristics, only I was too dumb to spot them. I gave him an opinion and mentioned, as an amusing coincidence, the resemblance. We were in a restaurant and he told some friends about it. Later on in that damnable evening he told other people. He made a great story of it.’

Grant stopped speaking. A belated horse-carriage clopped down the street under their garden. Much farther away a babble of Italian voices broke out, topped by a whistle, laughter and a snatch of song. A driver in Navona changed gears and revved up his engine.

‘Do I begin to see,’ Sophy said, ‘why you put up with—this afternoon?’

‘Do you begin to see!’ he burst out. ‘Yes, you do begin to see. You haven’t heard half of it yet, but by God you do begin to see.’ He brought his clenched fist down on the table with a crash and their tooth mugs clattered together.

‘Pardon me,’ said a shrill lady behind the french windows, ‘but is it too much to ask for a mite of common courtesy and consideration?’ And then in an access of rage. ‘If you can’t keep your voices down you can belt up and get out.’

V