he slowly rips the paper, but i can't look. i stare into my champagne glass, feeling like crying. five thousand pounds. it would have changed my life. it would have solved everything. i would have written out checks immediately to suze, to visa, to octagon. . to all of them. then i would have taken this check and presented it to derek smeath on monday morning. perhaps i wouldn't have cleared every single penny of overdraft, but i would have made a start. a bloody good start.

tarquin reaches for the box of matches on the table, sets the scraps of paper alight in the ashtray, and we both watch as they briefly flame. then he puts down the matches, smiles at me, and says, "do excuse me a minute."

he gets up from the table and heads off toward the back of the restaurant, and i take another gulp of champagne. then i lean my head in my hands and give a little sigh. oh well, i think, trying to be philosophical. maybe i'll win