He shrugged. ‘I suppose it doesn’t matter now if he does – and perhaps he will not really want to admit to a son of my age, making him look old?’

‘You’re probably right about that. He’s been a bit touchy lately about getting older. And now you have made it, you don’t need to worry about people attributing your success to his influence, do you?’

I shut the bureau lid. ‘Perhaps we’d better let sleeping manuscripts lie – and Grigor, er … Greg, I won’t tell about your visit, if you don’t tell about mine.’

‘Right,’ he said, looking relieved. ‘He’s forgotten he loaned me a key ages ago when I brought that stuff here to store, and I’ve never given it back.’

‘Ditto,’ I said. ‘I had one so I could look after his cat and I forgot to give mine back, too.’

Time was getting on, and with a quick check to see we’d left no trace of our presence we tiptoed out of the silent flat and climbed the steps up to the street, where Grigor shook my hand in a rather formal way and we each departed in different directions.

I felt like Tina the Spy.

The clandestine visit had been illuminating, just not in quite the way I had envisaged.

Sixteen

Fêted

NOVELTINA LITERARY AND CRITICAL AGENCY

Mudlark Cottage, The Harbour, Shrimphaven

Dear Neville Strudwick,

Thank you for your letter, photograph and kind invitation to dinner. However, I have made it my strict policy not to meet with my clients, since I am a professional writer with a very busy life and thus have to fit my agency work in wherever I can. I am sure you will understand.

However, I can critique your Western when you have written it (on receipt of a further cheque), and certainly do go with Bullwhip O’Sullivan. I think you are on to a real winner there.

Yours sincerely,

Tina Devino

The annual Shrimphaven Festival of Culture was looming, and Lady Het Woodwind-Chote, chairwoman of the committee running it (and the town, the county and probably the country), rang to invite me for coffee, because she said she wanted to ask me something very important regarding the festival. I was thrilled because it must mean that now I was famous enough to open it, not just do a book event at the library, and so I’d have to write a graceful little speech – and what on earth would I wear?

I’d have to buy something new, and the Festival was in May, which is a dodgy month weather-wise because it might be cold or hot and not all of it was to take place inside.