Sam Youd as John Christopher

Leslie broke in: ‘Was he – a lover of the arts?’ The table rapped once. Olivia said, explaining: ‘You can put your questions directly.’ ‘Right,’ Leslie said. He paused briefly. ‘Did you know the painter,...

Leslie asked: ‘What does happen, anyway? Ghosts? Long white figures?’ Howard had found another chair for himself and carried it round to wedge himself in between Leslie and Helen. I saw Cynthia lean forward on...

Howard said softly: ‘Nothing much to-night.’ As though in answer the table jerked quickly, pushing against us, coming down again on the floorboards with a clatter of wooden feet. Jupiter had given way to Saturn....

Having offered the invitation he stood on one side, watching with interested friendliness while the rest of us made the necessary preparations. Olivia and I pushed the carpet back, drew the four chairs up to...

‘We could take an office in town and get a small staff. Run your publishing as a front.’ Why did he want me? Did he really want me at all? I was wondering about this...

I knocked at Piers’s door and entered. He was standing on a chair by the window, struggling with the black-out board. I helped him to lift it into place, and he climbed down, rubbing his...

I parked the car behind Leicester Square and wondered again why I bothered to keep it up. It would be as cheap, and far more convenient, to rely on taxis. Just habit, I recognized, buying...

Helen was sitting in her window-seat, knitting, and surprisingly was quite alone. I took the cheque out of the envelope in which I’d placed it and handed it to her. She caught my eye as...

Lulu said, fairly loudly: ‘He has a water-colour temperament of course – pastel shades with subtle nuances of depth. And a wonderful instinct for group patterns.’ ‘And how young is he?’ Piers asked. She quite...