Wait till I tell them on the bench. That fits him.' 'Anyway I think you're wrong. When I met him he was very nice. Charming. A bit quiet perhaps but he's just a bit shy, I think.' 'If he's shy he shouldn't be a bloody personnel manager, should he? Anyway he's more than that. He's a snob.' Alice laughed with a slight edge of malice. 'I'd have thought you could say that about Mary Connon. But not him.' Fernie shook his head dismissively. 'Her. That's different. She'd like to be better, but knows she isn't. He believes he is. Bloody rugby club.' 'Oh, Dave, don't be daft. It's not like that these days. Anybody plays rugby. Maisie Curtis's boy next door, Stanley, he's in the Club.' 'So what? Things don't change all that quick. What a game. Organized thuggery, then they all sing dirty songs like little lads. Yet they all tut-tut like mad if one of our lads runs on the field and someone shouts "shit" from the terraces.'

'There's no need to get excited, Dave.'

'No? No, I suppose not. Here, I think I'm ready for my tea now.'

Alice rose and went into the kitchen.

'I'll tell you something about your precious standoffish Mr Connon, though.' His voice came drifting after her.

'What's that, then?'

'He'd had a couple tonight. He was swaying around a bit. And I thought he was going to drive across his lawn and in through the front door.'

Alice came back to the sitting-room door.

'That doesn't sound like him.' 'Doesn't it? Don't tell me that you've only heard good of him from Madam Mary?'

'She doesn't talk much about him at all.'

'I don't know why you bother with her. You've only got your age in common.'

Alice took an indignant step forward.

'What do you mean? I can give her ten years, and more.' Fernie caught her hand and pulled her down beside him on the settee. 'As much as that? Mind you, she's well preserved. And game too, I should think.' 'I don't know what you mean,' said Alice, struggling to get up. 'She must have caught him young then, very young. He's only thirty-nine, you know.'