At that time—two decades earlier—Marcus Leavy was dating a girl, Majella Skelly, with whom he was far from enamoured. His reason: her friend, the aforementioned, Claribel Barrington. Claribel was from the school of high sublime: pronounced cheekbones, a tall, slender frame and a face that could easily grace the cover of any of the world’s top fashion magazines. By contrast, Majella was plainer than a Rich Tea biscuit; her wit duller than the leftovers from last night’s dinner; though, it must be said, her body was taut as a gymnast’s and eminently pleasurable for Marcus to ravage. He was twenty-five at the time and in need of daily lovemaking. The thing was, though, the girls were inseparable. You never got one without the other. Therefore, Marcus was happy enough to play the role of Majella’s beau, affording him as it did his daily contact with the sublime Claribel. He had first met the pair at a party one night in a crumbling old house off the East Circular Road , Blud...