‘You were wonderful last time, Cliff. I’m glad you could help again.’

She liked the illusion that everyone was her friend and that there were no employees. Why dispel that?

‘Happy to be here. Enjoy your party, Roberta.’

The first flotilla of guests sailed in and the mouth-opening started. I cruised around the grounds-tennis court, pool, barbecue pit-and checked the cars-Volvos, BMWs and their cousins. Inside, I renewed my acquaintance with the Drysdales and the Nolans.

The house filled up fast, and the guests spilled out under the marquee at the back where the caterers kept the food and the booze well up to them. At 9.50 I swept up a broken glass; at 10.25 I parked a car the owner was too drunk to do anything with but leave in the middle of the road; at 12.30 I earned the five hundred bucks.

The first time I laid eyes on him I could see he was drunk, but he wasn’t in charge of a car and he had all his clothes on so it wasn’t any of my business. That was around 11.30; an hour later he was raping one of the guests under a Drysdale in one of those unassignable rooms. She was screaming and he was grunting. He was a big guy, six two or so, and therefore had an inch or more on me and the weight to match. His grunts were deep and rhythmic. His shirt was hanging out at the back and I bundled up a fistfull of it, pulled hard and swung him up and off the blonde teenager on the pile of cushions. The pull brought him around to face me; he stood unsteadily and yanked the long shirt-tail free.

‘Put it away’, I said, ‘and go home’.

The blonde screamed and he grunted again as if he liked screaming. I looked away to the girl and that’s when he threw a punch.