‘… you haven’t had the experience of moving up in the world, have you?’

Driscoll smiled. ‘The reverse, if anything. I was born into the upper middle class, but the class itself seems to have been depressed somehow.’

‘Well, in my case … one’s old friends … you have a feeling that you’ve changed a lot while they’ve remained just exactly the same. It’s probably untrue.’

‘True enough, I should guess, in essentials.’

‘True or not, there’s the impression and it makes it difficult to try to keep up with them. There are other difficulties, too, of course. They’re inclined to think you are patronizing them.’

‘And you are.’

‘And you are – of course. It all adds up to an impossible situation. That’s why I’ve stayed away from Holly Ash.’

‘And what change has taken place to make you suddenly eager to see old sights, both natural and human? No, let me guess. How long have you been on the Board?’

There was a moment’s silence. Bates stubbed out his cigarette in one of the silver-plated ashtrays that had been sent to each of the directors, the previous Christmas, by the firm’s chief German rivals. It was Driscoll who spoke again.

‘Well, never mind. You can go, with my blessing.’

Bates said slowly: ‘You hit the nail on the head, Peter – squarely on the head. I want to go back to Holly Ash as the visiting director. I want to do everything – preside at the foremen’s tea, present the prizes for the sports, dance at the Gala Night Ball. I want them to have a good look at me.’