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hour ago.” Then she picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Candida. Hi. Smee. Listen, you going to be Larkfield at the weekend? That’s completely brilliant. Ophelia’s coming with Hero and Perpetua. Well, fairly smart, I suppose. Absolutely. Quite agree. No, you’re quite right. Well, say hello to Lucretia for me. Bye.”
    One of these days she would answer the phone to someone called Beelzebub.
    Suddenly I was all softness and radiance in a powder-blue wrap. The sun was streaming down on us as we sat at my kitchen table. It was our first breakfast together.
    â€œPeople can be really quite different from each other, can’t they, Oliver?” I said.
    â€œSorry, darling?”
    â€œI, for example, like a warm currant tea cake for my breakfast. You, on the other hand, might prefer muesli, or scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, or bagels perhaps, with a range of cheeses,” I said, opening my immaculate fridge to reveal an array of tempting foodstuffs.
    â€œRosemary.” Hermione was standing above me, staring at me furiously. “I am not. Going. To ask you. Again. May I please have Sir William’s memo?”
    I turned back, under Hermione’s gaze, to the computer and started typing out the handwritten memo which lay on the desk. It was another of Sir William’s mad attempts to make himself more famous.
23 J ULY 1985
T O : A LL MEMBERS OF THE P UBLICITY D EPARTMENT
F ROM : S IR W ILLIAM G INSBERG
R E : C ORPORATE PROFILE - RAISING

We are looking very very hard for ways of increasing public awareness of the socially responsible aspects of the company and myself as its chairman. In the light of the recent Live Aid concert it is very very important Ginsberg and Fink are seen to be doing their bit.
    Suddenly the first birth pangs of an idea twinged in my brain. Startled by the sensation, I reached for the list of forthcoming Soft Focus programs, which was lying in a pile of papers on my desk. I scanned the list. There it was:
P ROGRAM 25: In the wake of Band Aid and Live Aid, Soft Focus investigates the new phenomenon of charity in relation to popular culture, and looks at the contribution of various areas of the arts world to aid for the Ethiopian famine.
    I reckoned it ought to be possible to get Sir William onto the program, although, obviously, it would have to involve a lot of consultation with the producer.

    â€œBooks.” Sir William banged his fist down on his large mahogany desk. “Ver’ good idea. Take ’em some books. Books all over the shop, clutterin’ the place up. Take ’em out in an airlift. Ties in smooth as a sewin’ machine. Ver’ good angle for an arts program.”
    â€œDon’t you think the Ethiopians would rather have something to eat?” I said.
    â€œNo, no, no. Books. Just the ticket. Every man jack in the whole ruddy shootin’ match flyin’ out food. Need somethin’ to read while they’re waitin’ for it.”
    â€œIn fact, although naturally food is the pressing concern, there may actually be something interesting for us in the books concept.” Eamonn Salt, the press officer for the SUSTAIN charity, pulled at his beard. Sir William pulled at his beard too.
    â€œReally?” I said.
    â€œYes, indeed. We’re trying to get away from the dehumanizing of the indigenous African in the media famine coverage,” Eamonn went on in his flat monotone. “Introducing the notion of the learned African person, the intelligent African thirsting for knowledge to replace what we call the Starving Monkey Myth. Your idea might well have a role to play in increasing public empathy, though many of my colleagues would disagree. It’s a different school of thought. Though, of course, we’d be up against public outrage about waste of resources, charity for luxury. I’m sure you’re familiar with the arguments.”
    â€œVer’ good. Arguments. Books. Just the