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.’
    â€˜The inquest may have been working on incomplete evidence.’ Briefly Charles outlined Norman del Rosa’s revelation.
    â€˜I see. Yes, it certainly does sound possible. Anything I can do?’
    â€˜I’m sure there will be in time. For the moment I just wondered if you have any background on Peaky.’
    â€˜No, nothing, except what one reads in
TV Times
or a newspaper. He was one of these showbiz mushrooms who spring up overnight. One day nobody’s heard of them, then they do a television and – bang – everyone’s talking about them. But I don’t know anything about Peaky personally. Not really my end of the business, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜Nor mine. Though it may be soon.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    Charles told Gerald about his booking on
The Alexander Harvey Show
.
    â€˜Oh, I remember. Wilkie Pole. That terrible character you used always to be doing at parties after we came down from Oxford.’
    â€˜Yes.’ Into the accent. ‘Bepardon?’
    â€˜God, that takes me back. Look, Charles, get me a ticket for the show. I’d like to be in the audience.’
    â€˜What, to see me do my act?’
    â€˜No, to see Alexander Harvey. He’s a client. I did his divorce.’
    â€˜Divorce? I didn’t think women were his thing.’
    â€˜He’s not the first to have made a mistake. I think he still kicks with both feet, anyway.’
    â€˜Interesting.’
    â€˜Is there any rehearsal for the show?’
    â€˜Just the day before the recording. But Walter Proud’s taking me out to lunch today to meet Lennie Barber.’
    â€˜I thought Walter was with the BBC.
The Alexander Harvey Show
’s the other side, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Yes, Walter’s freelance now. Sort of throwing ideas around to all the companies.’
    â€˜I see. Thought he was rather well placed at the BBC.’
    â€˜Yes, but he left. I don’t know, reading between the lines, I think there may have been some sort of row.’
    â€˜Hmm. Anyway, you’ll get a better lunch on ITV expenses. Where’s he taking you?’
    â€˜Restaurant called Great Expectations.’
    â€˜I hope they’re realized. Let me know when you get anywhere on the murder.’
    Great Expectations had recently opened in that Notting Hill area which is so convenient for lunching from BBC Television Centre. It was a concept restaurant, themed wittily around the works of Dickens. A bust of the author greeted patrons outside the door and inside the walls were covered with prints from his novels. The motif was carried through to the table-mats and napkins; menu and wine list were held in leather folders like first editions. The waiters and waitresses looked as though they had escaped from the chorus of
Oliver!
    This High Camp had also invaded the food. Instead of being called sensible things like Tomato Soup or Steak and Kidney Pie, the dishes rejoiced in such titles as Sairey Gamp’s Strengthening Broth or Mr. Pickwick’s Noble Pudding. Beneath these fanciful names on the menu, just to make the whole exercise completely pointless, appeared translations of what the items really were.
    Charles arrived a little late to find Walter Proud and Lennie Barber already perusing their first editions. The producer introduced them perfunctorily, but the comedian seemed engrossed in choosing what he was going to eat. ‘Have a lot of trouble with the old guts,’ he confided to the world at large, as he sipped a large whisky. ‘Ey, Walter, do you reckon this Martin Chuzzlewit would have garlic in it?’
    â€˜I wouldn’t think so. It says underneath it’s toad in the hole and I think all the food here is supposed to be traditional English.’
    â€˜Well, maybe I should try that.’ Lennie Barber didn’t seem convinced.
    â€˜How about a Tale of Two Cities?’ offered Walter helpfully. ‘That’s just two