'Oh dear, are you going to have to learn?'

'That's one option. You any good with that stuff?'

'I don't think any of my family have much to do with the soil.'

'Pity,' Glen said and stayed quiet while the percolator did its work.

Charlotte's last remark echoed like an unwelcome voice in her head for no reason she could grasp, unless it was reminding her that she was under the earth, except that she was nothing of the kind. 'You've made a lot of your s.p.a.ce,' she said.

'It's my burrow for sure. The girl I mentioned, she used to say it was like some animal's home in a fairy tale. Guess which animal.'

'I really couldn't say, Glen.'

'OK, well, you haven't seen it all yet.'

Before she could think of an answer he carried in two mugs, each advertising a Cougar million-seller. Having handed Charlotte How You Can Save the World, he planted Know Everybody's Secrets next to the chair he took opposite her and sat forwards. 'Anyway, let's get to the important stuff,' he said. 'Your cousin, yes?'

'I'd very much like to offer her a deal.'

'We haven't seen any rewrites yet, have we?'

'She's committed to them, and I'll give her any help she needs, on my own time if I have to.'

'We may not have so much of that, the way things are shaping up.' He took time to swallow a mouthful of coffee and said 'So you don't think it's going to call for too much of a favour.'

'I think together we can come up with a book that'll sell the way you thought it could.'

'I guess that's good enough for me. I'll back you when you talk it up. How much are you looking to offer?'

He'd lowered his head as he put down his mug, and yet she felt watched. 'As much as we reasonably can,' she said.

'Go ahead, give me your figure.'

As he raised his eyes she had the disconcerting idea that it wasn't his attention she had been sensing. Of course n.o.body was spying through the windows behind him; there was certainly no room for anyone to hide beneath the sill. 'We've been paying twenty-five for some first books, haven't we?' she did her best to concentrate on saying.

'Maybe, but I'd expect a whole lot more for that now, more than I figure you're going to give me.'

She felt not just eyed but trapped. The room seemed to have grown constricted, whether by its contents or the earth that must be pressing against the walls of the apartment, and dimmer. She tried a gulp of coffee, only to feel the caffeine seize her by her nerves. 'What would you suggest?' she said.

'I'd say ten tops.' Perhaps he sensed her disappointment on Ellen's behalf, because he added 'Did she say any more about her next book?'

'She asked me to help her develop it.'

'So what's your take?'

As Charlotte searched her mind she felt as if she were reaching down into a lightless place where she was awaited. That was just a dream she'd once had, but it made her feel more confined than ever, unless Glen's insistence did. 'I haven't had a chance to work on it yet,' she said. 'I'm sure it has potential. Don't call me unprofessional, but maybe it's too late in the day right now for me to give it what it deserves.'

'Listen, forgive me. This was meant to be a fun evening, not an editorial session. Let's make the most of our free time while we have it,' Glen said, leaning forwards to take her hand. 'OK, maybe I should put your mind at rest. Why don't you pitch twenty for both books at the meeting and I'll back you on that.'

She might have felt more at ease if she'd known why he had apparently changed his mind. 'Well, thank you,' she said, 'and Ellen thanks you just as much.'

'Hey, my pleasure, but we're the only ones here.'

She was instantly convinced he was wrong, and struggled to dispel a sense of being spied upon as he squeezed her hand before gradually letting go. 'So what's yours?' he said. 'Another drink? Some music? All that and more?'

She gathered he was talking about pleasure, an experience that seemed to be receding from her at speed. Of course the darkness just beyond the light wasn't crushing the apartment smaller and dragging it down into the earth, but she needed to be in the open a much better, on her roof. 'Would you mind if I called it an evening?' she said as evenly as she could. 'I've got some reading still to do before I go to bed.'

'That's perfectly fine. I have myself. Need a taxi? Want me to walk you to the station?'

'You get your reading out of the way, Glen. Maybe I can work on Ellen's idea while I'm walking.'

'Ever the professional,' he said and ushered her to the street. As she turned to say good night he clasped her hands and dealt her a kiss more lingering than she was quite prepared for. When she flexed her fingers he released her and backed down a step.

'Thanks for everything, Glen. See you on Monday,' Charlotte said and managed not to rub her hands on her skirt until she was hundreds of yards away. She wasn't trying to rub away Glen's touch, nor was she fleeing the sight of his jerky descent. She was simply anxious to leave behind the image of a figure reaching up to draw her into the dark.

EIGHT.

Hugh had almost finished stripping the left side of aisle thirteen of tins when Tamara and Mishel sauntered out of the cosmetics section. At first they seemed content to pose at the end of his aisle, so that any pa.s.sing customers might have taken them to be promoting dietary aids and blondeness, and then Tamara said 'You're being very fruity, Hugh.'

He was able to believe she had the contents of the tins in mind until Mishel enquired 'Are you fond of fruits, Hugh?'

'Some.' When the girls pouted to prompt him he admitted 'I like pears.'

Tamara unleashed a delighted squeal. 'I'll bet.'

'Not in tins. Too sweet for me.'

'He likes them out in the open with nothing on,' Mishel declared.

Hugh felt his cheeks begin to flare red. 'It's the syrup I don't like,' he tried saying.

'He doesn't like that slimy gooey stuff,' Tamara spluttered.

'You haven't told us pairs of what, Hugh.'

'I'm talking about fruit.' The heat spread over his face as he grabbed cans in both hands to add them to the stacks on the floor. 'I thought you were,' he mumbled.

'Oh, we are,' Tamara said. 'Don't you like dates?'

'Only at Christmas.'

'That's too long to wait for one, isn't it, Tam? You must like pa.s.sion fruit, Hugh.'

'I've never had it.'

Even before they greeted this with cries of sympathy Hugh realised he could have phrased it better. He turned his blazing face to the shelves and lifted down tin after chilly tin, which didn't prevent Mishel from asking 'Don't you like a nice juicy melon?'

He had the impression that she was aiming her prominent b.r.e.a.s.t.s at him, but nothing could happen if he stared straight ahead. 'No,' he muttered.

'Now you're sounding like a lemon, Hugh.'

'An old prune, more like,' said Mishel.

'I think he's being a p.r.i.c.kly pear.'

Hugh thought he saw a way to join in. 'At least I'm not an ugli fruit.'

There was silence while he shifted two armfuls of cans, and then Mishel said 'That's verbal abuse, that.'

'If a customer called us that we'd have security on them.'

Hugh thought they'd found a different way to tease him until he saw that their faces were stolidly blank. Beyond them his supervisor had come into view and perhaps into earshot across the wider aisle. 'I thought we were having a bit of fun,' Hugh protested.

'What kind of fun were you after?' said Mishel. 'Yes, you may well blush, Hugh Lucas.'

'You've got plenty to blush about,' Tamara said.

Justin pressed his small mouth thin as if to purge it of cuteness as he stalked across the aisle to plant his hands on his thick hips. 'Exactly what do you think you're doing, Hugh?'

'Being rude to us,' Tamara said.

'We were just joking and I was defending myself.'

'Oh, poor Hugh, having to defend himself from girls,' Mishel cried.

'You'd think we'd been a.s.saulting him. Go on, Hugh, show us on the security tape.'

'There's verbal a.s.sault,' Hugh blurted. 'You just said.'

'It looked more like flirtation to me,' Justin said without approving. 'Does anybody want to report anybody here?'

He stared at Hugh as the girls did, and Hugh's face grew hotter still. 'Not if n.o.body else is,' he said.

'Ladies?'

They turned their heads towards each other and eventually shook them. 'Maybe not this time,' Tamara said.

'If he behaves himself,' said Mishel.

'Better control yourself,' Justin warned as Hugh opened his mouth a indeed, gaped. To the girls he said 'You'll have some work to do, will you?'

'We're on our break,' Tamara told him.

'Better take it somewhere else, then.'

As they ambled away the girls stuck their pink tongues out at Justin, so lingeringly that Hugh wondered if they were challenging him to draw the supervisor's attention to them. He was close to giving them what they apparently wanted, on the a.s.sumption that for once he'd understood a girl, when Justin said 'I'll ask you again. Just what do you imagine you're doing?'

'What you said to.' When Justin pursed his lips tinier, Hugh tried 'Clearing the shelves.'

'Go on.'

'I would be if you weren't distracting me,' Hugh mouthed, grabbing cans of k.u.mquats.

He deposited them and was reaching for the next when Justin demanded 'What do you think you're doing now?'

Hugh raised his empty hands, which made him feel arrested with no idea of his offence. 'What you said again.'

'How stupid are you trying to be? I told you to tell me what you're doing.'

Hugh felt as if the interrogation had become a cramped maze with no light to show the way out. 'Clearing the shelves,' he repeated, attempting to laugh. 'I said.'

'I didn't realise I was so amusing.' Justin's gaze felt like a burning gla.s.s on Hugh's face, and stayed relentless as he said 'Which?'

Hugh jabbed his hands at the shelves, to no avail. 'And which are you trying to tell me those are?' Justin said. 'Don't do that, it's unhygienic.'

Hugh lowered his hand instead of pa.s.sing it once more over his scalp. 'Fruit,' he felt ridiculed for having to say, 'and at the other end a'

'Have you really forgotten what you were told to do?'

'Clear the left side of aisle thirteen.'

'And what are you telling me this is?'

For a moment Hugh didn't know which way to turn, and then he peered along the aisle at the number of the checkout desk framed by the shelves. 'It's thirteen.'

'You're not having a laugh, are you? What side?'

'Left. I said.'

Justin unfolded his arms, puffing out a scent of Conqueror deodorant, and stretched his plump fingers towards the emptied shelves. 'And what do you call this?'

Hugh felt as if the aisle had been added to the dark maze that was his brain. 'Left,' he said doggedly.

'Well, it's not. It's right, which is wrong.'

Hugh gazed in dismay at the thousands of cans on the floor and complained 'It depends which way you're facing.'

'You keep your back to the front of the store. You face the back.'

Hugh had the unpleasant impression that Justin's words were turning around and around in his brain. He was close to accusing Justin of wanting to confuse him when the supervisor said 'You tell me what clearing them was going to achieve if you can.'