Woody could not share her enthusiasm. ‘It was nasty,’ he said. ‘And it could have got worse.’ He had rescued her, and he half hoped that might cause her to change her mind about dating him.

But she did not feel she owed him much. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said in a tone of disparagement. ‘Nobody died.’

‘Those guards deliberately provoked a riot!’

‘Of course they did! Peshkov wants to make union members look bad.’

‘Well, we know the truth.’ Woody tapped his camera. ‘And I can prove it.’

They walked half a mile, then Woody saw a cruising cab and hailed it. He gave the driver the address of the Rouzrokh family home.

Sitting in the back of the taxi, he took a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘I don’t want to bring you home to your father looking like this,’ he said. He unfolded the white cotton square and gently dabbed at the blood on her upper lip.

It was an intimate act, and he found it sexy, but she did not indulge him for long. After a second she said: ‘I’ve got it.’ She took the handkerchief from his grasp and cleaned herself up. ‘How’s that?’

‘You’ve missed a bit,’ he lied. He took the handkerchief back. Her mouth was wide, she had even, white teeth, and her lips were enchantingly full. He pretended there was something under her lower lip. He wiped it gently, then said: ‘Better.’

‘Thanks.’ She looked at him with an odd expression, half fond, half annoyed. She knew he had been lying about the blood on her chin, he guessed, and she was not sure whether to be cross with him or not.

The cab halted outside her house. ‘Don’t come in,’ she said. ‘I’m going to lie to my parents about where I’ve been, and I don’t want you blabbing the truth.’

Woody reckoned he was probably the more discreet of the two of them, but he did not say so. ‘I’ll call you later.’

‘Okay.’ She got out of the taxi and walked up the driveway with a perfunctory wave.

‘She’s a doll,’ said the driver. ‘Too old for you, though.’

‘Take me to Delaware Avenue,’ Woody said. He gave the number and the cross street. He was not going to talk about Joanne to a goddamn cabby.

He pondered his rejection. He should not have been surprised: everyone from his brother to the taxi driver said he was too young for her. All the same it hurt. He felt as if he did not know what to do with his life now. How would he get through the rest of the day?

Back at home, his parents were taking their ritual Sunday afternoon nap. Chuck believed that was when they had sex. Chuck himself had gone swimming with a bunch of friends, according to Betty.

Woody went into the darkroom and developed the film from his camera. He ran warm water into the basin to bring the chemicals to the ideal temperature, then put the film into a black bag to transfer it into a light-trap tank.