Suddenly we heard a knocking coming from down in the flat. Carral lifted her arm, as if she was conducting an orchestra, signalled for the movement of bodies, wine and clouds to stop, and declared: ‘I think we’ve got company.’ We heard several more knocks. I caught her arm. ‘I don’t want company.’ ‘Little Jo, it’s probably just the neighbour.’ ‘I don’t think anyone should see us like this.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘It’s dirty here. And we look weird.’ ‘We are wine, we are cheese, we are crackers.’
