‘Hi, how are you?’ He looked around at Angela and Paul. Angela smiled at him, saying hello, and Paul crossed the few yards that separated us, exte...nding his hand. ‘Jack, this is Doctors Angela and Paul Prescott, this is my husband, Jack.’ I made the introductions, willing my voice to remain steady. ‘My upper-half.’ I added with a small laugh. ‘Hello, Paul.’ My husband was shaking hands with the man who’d fucked me. ‘Jack, nice to meet you.’ Paul answered, and I couldn’t see anything between. I knew I had to, it wouldn’t be fair on her not to, but at the same time I also knew that it wouldn’t be fair on Mrs Clarke if I did tell Sandra. Who would be angrier? Who would be more hurt? Who would I rather go with?I nearly told her, but at that moment the alarm on her mobile went off and she quickly got up to head for the bus station. At the bus station she just held me tight until her bus came in.“Don’t tell anyone. Please?” I begged her.She nodded reluctantly. “All right. But you. .. ? Even what’s not said? The emotions? The gestures? Those things inspire an actor and a director to make something really work.”Joe sighed. “I think you can do better than you think you can. You know how Johan thinks. How he expresses himself.”“Not as much as you want me to. Not in creating it. But that’s not even the point. He wants your words, Joe. Your specific vision.”“Which you know will become his.”“He wants it to be a synthesis. That’s already started with you conforming to his. . Ha, yes it is. I am with my friend, in her den. We are on her speaker phone. . . . Good, you know I don’t like you lonely. Is she there with you? . . . Yes, sharing a glass of wine and conversation. She insisted I call. Laura wanted to express her appreciation directly to her Baby’s hostess. Hello Mrs. Patron, Good Morning from here and Good Afternoon to you there. . . . Thank you my dear. . . . I appreciate you looking after my husband for me while I am.