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you’re doing now?”
    “What am I doing now?”
    “There!” shouted Jim. “You did it again.”
    “What?”
    “Well, I’m having to shout above all this racket, but you’re just speaking normally, and I can understand every word you’re saying.”
    “It’s just a way of projecting your voice. My brother taught me.”
    “Wonderful,” shouted Jim. “I’m Jim, by the way.”
    “I’m Litany,” said Litany.
    “Have you come to see the band? Are you here with your, er, boyfriend?”
    “You don’t have to shout. I can understand
you
. And I’m with the band and I don’t have a boyfriend.”
    Groupie, thought Jim.
    “And I’m not a groupie.”
    “Of course you’re not.”
    “I’m the lead singer.”
    “I’ve been really looking forward to seeing your band,” said Jim. “I’ll be right down at the front.”
    “Oh, really?”
    “Absolutely. Can I get you a drink or something?”
    “No, thank you.” Litany shook her perfect head. Her perfect hair, of a colour somewhere between this and that, moved all around and about. It wasn’t exactly big hair, but it had many big ways. “The beer’s rubbish here. I’d much prefer a pint of Large.”
    “I could run to the Swan and bring you one back. Or we could perhaps go together.”
    “I have to play. There’s a lot of fans here tonight.”
    “Yes.” Jim now made a somewhat thoughtful face. Which was a great improvement. “How come …”
    “How come what?”
    “How come you’re not being mobbed? How come you’re just sitting down here with me and no one’s bothering you? How come there’s not a big mob of adoring fans gathered about this table?”
    “Would you like there to be?”
    “No. But …”
    “It’s something else my brother taught me. I’ll tell you about it some time. Over a pint of Large, perhaps.”
    “Oh yes,” said Jim. “Oh yes, indeed.”
    “I like you, Jim,” said Litany. “You’re everything I hoped you’d be.” And on that mysterious note, she rose from Omally’s chair, smiled at Jim and melted into the crowd.
    Pooley lifted his can of beer and emptied the contents down his throat. And just for a moment, only for a moment, mind, the thin warm ale took on the taste of a cooling pint of finest Large.
    And then a great cheer went up from the mob, as the mob became aware that Litany was among them and Jim got another elbow in the ear.
    And then John Omally returned.
    “Bastards,” he said, reseating himself.
    “Pardon?” shouted Jim.
    “Bastards,” shouted John.
    “Any particular bastards, or just bastards in general?”
    “Big-haired bastards, they wouldn’t speak to me.”
    “Perhaps they didn’t take to your old chaps routine.”
    “They mocked my suit.”
    “
My
suit?”
    “Your suit, then. But mock it they did.”
    “Well, it is a really horrible suit. Which is why I’ve never asked for it back.”
    “I’ve a good mind not to manage them now.”
    “That’ll teach them!” bellowed Jim.
    “You might as well push off, then.”
    “No, that’s all right, John. You push off, I’ll stay a bit longer.”
    “What?”
    “I think I’ll stay and watch the band.”
    “What?”
    “Just a couple of numbers.”
    “What?”
    “Did you get her autograph?” It was Geraldo, the big fat fellow in the black T-shirt and shorts. His tiny voice squeaked very loud, in order to make himself heard.
    “What?” said Jim.
    “That’s my line,” said John.
    “Litany’s autograph. That was her talking to you, wasn’t it? I didn’t recognize her until she got up.”
    “What?” went John.
    “He was talking to Litany,” squeaked Geraldo.
    “Who is Litany?” John bawled back.
    “Just a friend,” said Jim.
    “What?”
    “She’s the Gandhis’ lead singer. Your mate was chatting her up.”
    “I never was.”
    “You were
what
?”
    “Oh, all right. I was talking to her. She does this really clever thing when she speaks, she—”
    “Bastard!” shouted John. “I turn my back and you’re