Piper's own work had hardly been mentioned.
'I understand Pause O Men for the Virgin deals with the love affair between a seventeen-year-old boy and...' Miss Wildgrove began but Sonia intervened.
'Mr Piper doesn't wish to discuss the content of his novel,' she said hurriedly. 'We're keeping the book under wraps.'
'But surely he's prepared to say...'
'Let's just say it is a work of major importance and opens new ground in the area of age differentials,' said Sonia and hurried Piper away to be photographed incongruously on the deck of the Cutty Sark, in the grounds of the Maritime Museum and by the Observatory. Miss Wildgrove followed disconsolately.
'On the way back stick to ink and your ledgers,' Sonia told Piper and Piper followed her advice. In the end Miss Wildgrove returned to her office to compose an article with a distinctly nautical flavour while Sonia shepherded her charge back to the office.
'You did very well,' she told him.
'Yes, but hadn't I better read this book I'm supposed to have written? I mean, I don't even know what it's about.'
'You can do that on the boat going over to the States.'
'Boat?' said Piper.
'Much nicer than flying,' said Sonia. 'Hutchmeyer is arranging some big reception for you in New York and it will draw bigger crowds at the dockside. Anyway we've done the interviews and the TV programme isn't till next Wednesday. You can go back to Exforth and pack. Get back here Tuesday afternoon and I'll brief you for the programme. We're leaving from Southampton Thursday.'
'You're wonderful,' said Piper fervently, 'I want you to know that.' He left the office and caught the evening train to Exeter. Sonia sat on in her office and thought wistfully about him. Nobody had ever told her she was wonderful before.
Certainly Frensic didn't next morning. He arrived at the office in a towering rage carrying a copy of the Guardian.
'I thought you told me all he was going to talk about was inks and pens,' he shouted at the startled Sonia.
'That's right. He was quite fascinating.'
'Well then kindly explain all this about Graham Greene being a second-rate hack,' Frensic yelled and thrust the article under her nose. 'That's right. Hack. Graham Greene. A hack. The man's insane!'
Sonia read the article and had to admit that it was a bit extreme.
'Still, it's good publicity,' she said. 'Statements like that will get his name before the public.'
'Get his name before the courts more like,' said Frensic. 'And what about this bit about The French Lieutenant's Woman... Piper hasn't even written one single publishable word and here he is castigating half a dozen eminent novelists. Look what he says about Waugh. Quote a very limited imagination and an overrated style unquote. Waugh just happens to have been one of the finest stylists of the century. And 'limited imagination' coming from a blithering idiot who hasn't got any imagination at all. I tell you Pandora's box will be a teaparty by comparison with Piper on the loose.'
'He's entitled to his opinions,' said Sonia.
'He isn't entitled to have opinions like these,' said Frensic. 'God knows what Cadwalladine's client will say when he reads what he's supposed to have said, and I shouldn't think Geoffrey Corkadale is too pleased to know he's got an author on his list who thinks Graham Greene is a second-rate hack.' He went into his office and sat miserably wondering what new storm was going to break. His nose was playing all hell with him.
