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the same boat and just to switch everything off. He can’t do anything until it thaws, then he’ll come to fix any leaks.” She looked at me helplessly. “I’m very sorry, dear, but I’m going to stay in a hotel until this is over. I’m going to close the house. Can you find somewhere else for a week or two? Of course I’ll add the time on to your six months, you won’t lose by it, dear.”
    Dismay was a small word for what I felt. I helped her close all the stopcocks I could find and made sure she had switched off her water heaters, and in return she let me use her telephone to look for another roof.
    I got through to her nephew, who still worked for the travel firm.
    “Do you have any more aunts?” I inquired.
    “Good God, what have you done with that one?”
    I explained. “Could you lend me six feet of floor to unroll my bedding on?”
    “Why don’t you gladden the life of your parents on that Caribbean island?”
    “Small matter of the fare.”
    “You can come for a night or two if you’re desperate,” he said. “But Wanda’s moved in with me, and you know how tiny the flat is.”
    I also didn’t much like Wanda. I thanked him and said I would let him know, and racked my brains for somewhere else.
    It was inevitable I should think of Tremayne Vickers.
    I phoned Ronnie Curzon and put it to him straight. “Can you sell me to that racehorse trainer?”
    “What?”
    “He was offering free board and lodging.”
    “Take me through it one step at a time.”
    I took him through it and he was all against it.
    “Much better to get on with your new book.”
    “Mm,” I said. “The higher a helium balloon rises the thinner the air is and the lower the pressure, so the helium balloon expands, and goes on rising and expanding until it bursts.”
    “What?”
    “It’s too cold to invent stories. Do you think I could do what Tremayne wants?”
    “You could probably do a workmanlike job.”
    “How long would it take?”
    “Don’t do it,” he said.
    “Tell him I’m brilliant after all and can start at once.”
    “You’re mad.”
    “I might as well learn about racing. Why not? I might use it in a book. And I can ride. Tell him that.”
    “Impulse will kill you one of these days.” I should have listened to him, but I didn’t.
     
    I WAS NEVER sure exactly what Ronnie said to Tremayne, but when I phoned again at noon he was mournfully triumphant.
    “Tremayne agreed you can write his book. He quite took to you yesterday, it seems.” Pessimism vibrated down the wire. “He’s agreed to guarantee you a writing fee.” Ronnie mentioned a sum which would keep me eating through the summer. “It’s payable in three installments—a quarter after a month’s work, a quarter when he approves the full manuscript, and half on publication. If I can get a regular publisher to take it on, the publisher will pay you, otherwise Tremayne will. He’s agreed you should have forty percent of any royalties after that, not thirty. He’s agreed to pay your expenses while you research his life. That means if you want to go to interview people who know him, he’ ll pay for your transport. That’s quite a good concession, actually. He thinks it’s odd that you haven’t a car, but I reminded him that people who live in London often don’t. He says you can drive one of his. He was pleased you can ride. He says you should take riding clothes with you and also a dinner jacket, as he’s to be guest of honor at some dinner or other and he wants you to witness it. I told him you were an expert photographer so he wants you to take your camera.”
    Ronnie’s absolute and audible lack of enthusiasm for the project might have made me withdraw even then had Aunty not earlier given me a three o’ clock deadline for leaving the house.
    “When does Tremayne expect me?” I asked Ronnie.
    “He seems pathetically pleased that anyone wants to take him on, after the top men turned him down. He says he’d be happy for you to