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Jolyon clapped Jack on the shoulder and looked profoundly grateful. ‘Just what in the hell do you think is going on with those two?’ he said.
    ‘I think it’s pretty obvious,’ said Jack. ‘Tweedledee won’t admit to himself he’s gay. Not until he’s fifty-five, been married for thirty years and is the Member of Parliament for Sutton and Cheam. Meanwhile Tweedledum will be dead in ten years’ time after a tragic accident involving an adventurous bout of autoerotic asphyxiation. His latest beard will find him cock-out and lifeless in a cheap hotel room with a dog-eared copy of Bodybuilders Monthly and a sock stuffed with satsumas inserted most of the way into his mouth. Probably the pink-and-blue argyle.’
    ‘I don’t know if I can really laugh at people like that,’ said Jolyon.
    ‘I can,’ said Jack. ‘It gets me through the dark self-loathing hours. Well, that and alcohol. On the subject of which, anyone for a pint?’
    *   *   *
    VIII(iii)    The reason Chad had not followed Jack’s encounter with Sock Soc was because he had become distracted. Instead of witnessing William and Warren’s duologue, Chad’s attention had been snagged by the next stall along. Its sign was much smaller than most. ‘Game Soc’, it read, the words handwritten on a piece of paper no larger than a golfer’s scorecard.
    Game Soc’s stall was not manned by grinning sophomores. Instead, behind its counter there stood three older students, postgrads perhaps. And not a single one of them was wearing a name tag.
    Earlier Chad had watched from a distance as two boys had approached Game Soc. The encounter hadn’t lasted long. Although Chad hadn’t heard the conversation, he had seen Game Soc’s reaction – the tallest of the three, his eyes distant and uninterested, shook his head three times and mouthed the words no no no.
    Now two girls were approaching, the sort of girls whose appearance Chad imagined might soften the hearts of Game Soc’s stony representatives. He moved a little closer to hear.
    ‘Hello,’ said one of the girls. ‘We saw your stall, and we were wondering what sort of games you play at Game Soc.’
    ‘What sort of game did you have in mind?’ said the tallest. He said this with no trace of suggestion, not even a hint of innuendo in his voice.
    ‘Well, I like party games like Twister,’ said the second girl.
    ‘No,’ replied the tallest, looking away.
    ‘Any party games at all?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Board games then?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Well, what sort of games do you play?’
    It was the second tallest member of Game Soc who spoke next. ‘I don’t think you’re quite Game Soc material,’ he said to the girls.
    ‘But you don’t know anything about us.’
    Game Soc’s two shorter representatives exchanged glances. They seemed to communicate something wry, or perhaps something condemnatory, it was hard to tell.
    Finally the shortest member of Game Soc spoke. ‘Let’s none of us waste any more time now,’ he said.
    ‘Well, I think you’re all tremendously rude,’ said the second girl. ‘There are all sorts of societies who showed a great deal of interest in us.’ She waved a stack of handouts to prove her point.
    ‘You don’t even have any leaflets,’ said the first girl. ‘No one’s going to join your stupid little soc anyway.’
    Game Soc’s three representatives remained motionless, their expressions unchanging, and said nothing more.
    The girls left, nodding to each other as they went, outwardly very much in agreement. Game Soc was for losers. But Chad also saw in their movements a sense of defeat. Two sails limp at sea and the air short of breath.
    For a brief moment Chad admired the cruelty of Game Soc, even felt some small and vicarious enjoyment. If only he could be so … But then he performed a quick mental check and shifted his sympathy wholly to the girls.
    Jack and Jolyon were moving away down the hall. He followed them, several steps behind, only half listening