‘Certainly not. A horrible man. Creepy.’

They had now come out of the front door and continued to walk together along the street. William walked to work; Dee was heading for the tube.

‘His name hardly helps,’ said William. ‘Oedipus Snark. It’s very unfortunate. Somewhat redolent of Trollope, I would have thought. What was the name of Trollope’s villain? Slope, wasn’t it? Snark and Slope are obviously birds of a feather.’

‘Creep.’

‘Yes,’ said William. ‘That would be another good name for a villain. Creep. Of course that’s a name with political associations already. You won’t remember CREEP, but I do. Just. Watergate. Remember Watergate?’ He realised that of course she would not. Just as she would know nothing about Winston Churchill or Mussolini; or Kenneth Williams or Liberace, for that matter. ‘CREEP was the name of the committee that President Nixon - he was a president of the United States, you know - had working for his re-election. The Committee to Re-elect the President. CREEP was the acronym.’ Dee seemed to be paying very little attention to him, but William was used to that. He was terribly old by her standards. She was twenty-eight and he was in his late forties (well, early fifties if one was going to be pedantic). He was old enough to be her father, a thought which depressed him. He did not want to be a father-figure to the young women who lived in the flat below. He wanted them to look upon him as a . . . friend. But it was too late for that. Being realistic, there were just not enough shared references in their respective worlds to allow for much of a friendship. The most he could hope for was a reasonably neighbourly relationship in which they did not condescend to him too much.

‘How does Jenny get on with Snark?’ asked William. ‘Does she share your low opinion of him?’

Dee became animated. ‘Yes. She really does. She hates him. She thinks he’s gross.’