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against such feelings of infallibility, but I tell him that the sad bastards are just jealous.
    I stared out of the car window as we inched our way through crowded London streets back to the Dorchester Hotel in Park Lane. It had rained all day, turning the streets and pavements toblack glass. Pedestrians, hunched against the rain and wielding umbrellas like shields, jostled each other in an endless search for space. Some bravely competed on the roads; others stayed in the relative sanctuary of the footpaths.
    â€˜My God, this place is crazy,’ I said to Bebe, but still with no response. With an exaggerated movement I pulled a hip flask from my pocket and took a swig. Bebe disliked my drinking even though he participated in its cover-up, yet even this provocation brought no reaction. ‘Oh, come on, Bebe, I said I was sorry. Come on, snap out of it.’ I had resorted to whining.
    Finally he turned. ‘I may be many things, Jack, and my God you rarely let me forget them, but I’m not some sort of cheap gossip.’
    â€˜I know, Bebe. I know.’ I sighed and thrust my hands deep into my trouser pockets.
    â€˜Boring you, am I?’
    â€˜You know you’re not, Bebe. It’s just that I’ve explained myself so many times, and said sorry so many times I don’t know what else to say. Nothing makes a fucking difference.’ Bebe winced at my swearing. I always enjoyed his offended response. ‘Anyone would think we’re an old married couple.’
    â€˜No wife would put up with your…nonsense.’ His voice trailed off into silence.
    â€˜Right.’
    We both watched the traffic for a while, neither speaking.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Jack, that was thoughtless of me. Sometimes I just forget what happened to Caroline. I didn’t know you back then and I just don’t realise what I’m saying. Still, it was very thoughtless and I’m sorry.’
    â€˜It’s all right, Bebe. You shouldn’t have said that and I shouldn’thave asked you to do that thing with Driesler.’
    â€˜No, you shouldn’t.’ Peace was declared.
    As usual Bebe changed the subject. ‘You know, Jack, you have an unhealthy obsession with Driesler.’
    â€˜Perhaps.’
    â€˜There’s no perhaps about it. Look, forget him—don’t let him get to you this way. The man is a lone voice and his attacks won’t hurt you if you just ignore the fellow. He’ll be forgotten within a week. You see if he isn’t.’
    I laughed at Bebe, something he rarely appreciated except at the most opportune moment. ‘Come on, Bebe, you don’t really believe that, do you? I certainly don’t and I’m bloody sure good old Frank Driesler doesn’t either.’
    â€˜Try and forget him, Jack. You’re right, he’s wrong. Simple.’
    â€˜Such faith, my friend, such faith.’
    â€˜Deserved.’
    â€˜And how do you suggest I take my mind off him?’
    â€˜I don’t know, take up fishing or origami, or…go shopping and spend some money, but just stop beating yourself up about him.’
    â€˜What about drink, girls and drugs? That might help me forget him.’
    â€˜I was thinking about something that might not mess your life up and give you some hope.’
    Our car pulled up to the Dorchester. There were a good hundred people around the hotel entrance. Most were just ordinary folk, there for a glimpse of me or maybe an autograph, but there were some photographers and reporters who stepped forward and raised their cameras and tape recorders, ready for instant action.
    I turned to Bebe. ‘You’re right—I’ll cast Frank Driesler from my thoughts. I’m right and he’s wrong and I apologise again for suggesting that you…’
    â€˜I’d rather forget about it now, apology accepted, let’s say no more. Now, let’s go forth, and remember, no comment on this. We’re not at