‘Yes, I did go to the pub.’ ‘You had a lot, did you?’ In her interest she stopped eating, but still gripped her knife and fork, her fists resting on the cloth. He noticed that her fingers were square-tipped, with the nails cut quite close. ‘I suppose I must have done, yes,’ he replied. ‘How much did you have?’ ‘Oh, I never count them. It’s a bad habit, is counting them.’ ‘Yes, I dare say, but how many do you think it was? Roughly.’ ‘Ooh . . . seven or eight, possibly.’ ‘Beers, that is, is it?’ ‘Good Lord, yes. Do I look as if I can afford spirits?’ ‘Pints of beer?’ ‘Yes.’
