The Liar

'I didn't know they had one. Who the hell reads drama criticism in the Financial Times?'

'Everyone will if it's a good notice, because I'll have it blown up and put outside the theatre.'

'How long's the interval?' asked Hugo.

No one at the party was going to deny that it had been the finest production in the history of Cambridge drama, that Hugo and Gary in particular were bound for West End glory in weeks, that Adrian had done a fine job in translating Dickens to the stage and that he must write a new play for Jenny to direct the moment she joined the National, which appointment must be only days away.

'My dear Healey!' a hand was placed on Adrian's shoulder. He turned to see the smiling face of Donald Trefusis.

'Hello, Professor. Did you enjoy it?'

'Triumphant, Adrian. Absolutely triumphant. A most creditable piece of adaptation.'

'Will it do as my piece of original work?'

Trefusis looked puzzled.

'You know, the task you set me earlier this term?'

'Adapting someone's novel? Will that do as your piece of original work? You must have misunderstood me.'

Adrian was slightly drunk and, although he had planned this moment a hundred times in his head, it was always in Trefusis's rooms and without 'Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick' playing in the background.

'Well, Professor, no. That's not what I mean,' he cleared his throat., 'I mean will Peter Flowerbuck the novel count as my original piece of work?'

'Oh certainly, certainly. By all means. I thought for a moment that you were . . .'

Bridget Arden, the voluptuous actress who had played Mrs Twimp with such eclat, came up and kissed Adrian on the mouth. ' . -

'Julian's rolling a joint in the downstairs dressing-room, Adey. Come and join us.'

'Ha! Very good! Rolling a joint! That's a great one! Love it . . . er, she's just . . . you know,' explained Adrian, as they watched her falling downstairs.

'Of course she is, my dear fellow! No, I was saying. I thought for a moment you expected that I would take just the adapting of your novel as a satisfactory task. I accept the writing of it, gladly. A splendid conception. It exceeded my most optimistic expectations.'

'You mean you know?'

'Aside from the three hundred and forty-seven anachronisms that Dr Anderson and his team will uncover in time, I had the good fortune to be in your rooms one afternoon. How I could have mistaken D staircase for A, I have no idea. I am not usually so inattentive. But before I realised my error, I had stumbled across the manuscript.'

'You stumbled across a bundle of papers wrapped in a blanket hidden on top of a bookcase?'

'I am quite a stumbler when the mood is on me. I stumbled for Cambridge as an undergraduate.'

'I bet you did.'

'Absurdly remiss of me, I know. Not solely an affliction of the elderly however. I believe your friend Gary Collins once accidentally stumbled into my rooms in just the same way. In his case, I understand he even stumbled across a telephone before he noticed where he was. These confusions are not so rare as one might imagine.'

'Oh God. But if you've known all along, why haven't you . . .'

'Blown the whistle? I have my reasons and your manuscript serves them perfectly. The English department at St Matthew's has never had so many research fellows or been flooded with so many grants. The Dickens Society of Chicago alone . . . but that is of no interest to you. I am sincerely delighted. This is the second time you have failed to disappoint me. It's so hard to find a good crook these days. You're a treasure, Adrian, a real treasure. One thing I am unclear on, though. Why did you hit upon the happy idea of having the manuscript discovered in St Matthew's and not in the University Library?'

'Well, I wanted it to be college property. I assumed then that you would be the one to publicise it.'

'And I would be the one with egg on my face when the truth came out? I suspected as much. You are too splendid. I know we shall become friends.'

'No I didn't exactly mean . . .'

'You have done your college a great service. I will leave now, to allow space for carnival, riot, drugs and carnal frenzy to develop. Silenus and his leering wrinkles are not required when youth is sporting. Oh look, there is that man from Narborough, the one you routed on the cricket field the first time ever we met. Excellent performance, my dear Cartwright! I am not ashamed to say that I wept openly.'

Hugo nodded vaguely and came up to Adrian, flushed and swaying, a bottle in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

'Look where he comes,' said Adrian, 'the Allegory of Dissipation and Ruin.'

Hugo burped happily and gestured at Trefusis who was saying his farewells to Jenny.

'I know that old fart from somewhere,' he said.

'You are talking about the old fart that I love. That old fart is a genius. That old fart won a thousand pounds by backing Chartham Park against Narborough Hall. You must remember the cricket match.'

'Oh yes, that's right. You cheated.'