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Sophie folded her arms.

‘We’re not having this conversation.’

Sophie Almonds worked at Hayes & Heath as a literary agent. This meant that she got her clients – clients including me – contracts and cash advances for their novels, or whatever else she could get them hired to write. I took whatever she brought me, which wasn’t much by then to be honest, but I always got the impression that it never stopped her from trying. Unfortunately, Sophie Almonds was also Andrew Black’s literary agent, technically speaking, and that made talking to her about his letter a little . . . problematic.

Not only did Sophie make a point of never discussing one client with another – and doubly so if that client happened to be Andrew Black – but from a personal perspective, it was possible, in certain lights, to see her jaw tightening ever so slightly at any mention of the man’s name. A little over six years ago, Sophie Almonds pulled off the book deal of the decade, only to have it come crashing down spectacularly because of Black’s peculiar foibles (he would’ve said principles). If there had been anybody else I could have talked to about Black and his letter, I would have.