I took the money – goodness knows, I’d worked for it – and decided I was never ever going back there even if they offered to pay me double and hang banners out.

I didn’t think they would ask me anyway because I was clearly not what they had in mind. Maybe they should have checked with Little Ms Assertive from Women For Intellectual Advancement; she’d have put them right.

Eight

Vintage Chic

NOVELTINA LITERARY AND CRITICAL AGENCY

Mudlark Cottage, The Harbour, Shrimphaven

Dear Ms Pucklington,

No, I am sure we have never met since I am an invalid and rarely leave my home – indeed I discourage all personal callers since I need absolute quiet for my nerves. So although it is most kind of you to offer to call and discuss the more esoteric aspects of your novel in person with me, you can see it is quite impossible.

Also, I am afraid you have confused me with the novelist Tina Devino, who is a distant family relation. (I am told that her novels are absolutely brilliant!)

It is certainly very surprising that your first novel, Slapping the Leather, was not snapped up by a publisher, so that you had to print it yourself, especially in view of the success your non-fiction book on the history of sex and masochism had earlier achieved, and I will look forward to reading your new novel, Beyond Rubber, to see if I can put my finger on any problems that may be holding you back from acceptance.

If you wish to proceed, please post the manuscript to me with a cheque for the full amount (made out to T. Devino) and include a stamped addressed envelope for its return.

Yours sincerely,

Tina Devino

I saw Tube Man again on my next visit to Linny’s – the first time since we passed each other outside Miracle’s office – and we exchanged smiles. His dark eyes turned down at the outside corners and his smile made me want to cry … and my God, he was certainly Tube Man in more ways than one and I suddenly felt a yearning to have mine untied, or I would if they were tied, but you know what I mean. (This was unusual: I had never been able to see the point of children and, having been orphaned so early, the concept of motherhood was a foreign country to me.)

Unfortunately, Tube Man was getting on as I was getting off, so surely that meant he must live in this area of London? Why hadn’t I seen him hanging out at Lemonia or any of the coffee shops or Russian tea rooms? And if I’d been in the possession of my senses I’d have got right back on the train with him!