As Rafferty drove off, he thought about Frank Massey. Things looked black for him, all right. The man was a fool to do a bunk; but was he a guilty fool? The question occupied him all the way to the church hall, which took some time as he hit every red light on the way.
To his annoyance, he arrived too late for the interval, and the doorman, a self-important Jobsworth, refused to let him wait backstage.
'Can't do that,' he was told, as, with arms folded over the brown overall, Jobsworth's tiny, piggy-pink eyes subjected him to a top-to-toe examination. Rafferty realised he'd failed the test when Jobsworth told him tartly, 'Get too many so-called theatre lovers back here already. Light-fingered the lot of them. Now I don't let nobody back here unless they're vouched for. More than my job's
