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the passenger seat. He turned along the A 46 in the direction of the M 4 , cursing the heat, his own misfortune in not having a van with air-conditioning, and the fact that his windscreen wash was almost empty.
    And that he couldn’t now be in Reading much before four.
    • • •
    Patrick saw her as he stood in the queue at the tea stall; she was only a few yards away, her face tear streaked, clutching a mug of tea. Gorgeous, she was, black, no more than twenty, wearing a very shortdenim skirt and then those funny boots they all seemed to like: sheepskin, not ideal for a hot August day, but then that was fashion for you. She was small and quite thin, but she had very good boobs, nicely emphasized by a pink low-cut T-shirt, and her wild black hair was pulled back into a ponytail on one side.
    He picked up his own tea and a couple of bottles of water and went over to her.
    “Not a serious problem, I hope?”
    “Who said there was a problem at all?” she said. “I’m just waiting for someone.”
    Her voice was surprisingly posh; he was surprised. Then he chided himself for being classist or racist or whatever such a reaction might be labelled. Soon, he reflected, you wouldn’t be able to say anything at all without upsetting someone.
    “Your friend late, then?”
    “I’m—” she said, and then stopped, smiled reluctantly. “I’m not waiting for anyone, really. I’m just hoping to get a lift back to Cardiff. You’re not … not going that way?”
    “No, sorry, my love. Going to London.”
    “Oh, God,” she said, and her huge eyes filled with tears again, “if only I’d met you just half an hour earlier. I was trying to get there.”
    “Any particular reason?”
    “Well—yes. Yes, I had an appointment.”
    “Important, was it?”
    “Terribly,” she said, and started to cry in earnest again.
    “Come on,” he said, sitting down on a bench, indicating to her to join him. “Tell me all about it.”
    • • •
    “Linda, I’ve got Georgia on line three—”
    “Georgia,” Linda said, picking it up, “what is it? Are you in London yet?”
    “Linda, don’t be angry, please, please don’t. I’ve … well, I’ve had a difficult day so far, and … and, well, I’m on the M 4 .”
    “The M 4 ! God in heaven, whereabouts on the M 4 ?”
    “Um—almost in Gloucestershire. The Bath turnoff.”
    “Georgia,” said Linda, trying to keep her voice under control, “do you know what you’ve just done? I worked so hard to get you that audition. I lied; I practically bribed. What am I going to tell them? I hope you realise this damages me and my reputation as much as it does yours. Rather more so, actually, since you don’t have one. Now get off this line and out of my life. I—”
    “Linda, please. Please listen to me. I’m so, so sorry, I know everything you say is true, and I don’t deserve any more of your help or kindness. But … it really wasn’t my fault. Really. I was staying with a friend in Bath and—”
    “I don’t want to hear this.”
    “But isn’t there anything you could tell them? That will just make them wait a couple of hours for me? They’re seeing lots of girls; couldn’t you ask if I could be last? I know I can be there by five thirty …”
    There was a long silence; then Linda said, “I don’t know, Georgia. I don’t know.”
    “But you’ve got to talk to them anyway, tell them I’m not coming. Wouldn’t it be better for both of us if you told them I had a tummy bug or something? Please, please?”
    Another silence; then Linda said, “Well, I’ll consider it. Are you on your mobile?”
    “Um, no, someone else’s. Mine had—had just died.”
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Give me the number. And if you don’t hear from me, don’t be surprised.”
    “No, no, all right. Thank you, Linda. Thank you so, so much.”
    • • •
    Georgia switched off the mobile and handed it back to Patrick rather shakily.
    “I think she’s going to try. You were right: it