Clive began to cry again. He didn’t cover his face this time, but screwed up his eyes, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Yes,” he said, “it was the way you said it.”
“Quite a big shot, ain’t he?” Duffy said, leaning against the wall, watching with extraordinary interest.
“You leave him alone,” the little guy said. “He’s all right, but he upsets himself.”
Clive stopped crying and shot Duffy a look of hate. The other two followed his glance, as if just remembering Duffy.
The little guy said to Clive, “You all right now?”
Clive said he was fine.
“Come on,” the little guy said to Duffy, “we’re wasting time.”
Duffy said, “I’m disappointed. I thought we were all going to let down our hair and have a good cry.”
The little guy giggled, then stopped and looked annoyed. “Let’s have the camera, we got to blow soon.”
Duffy lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling. “I ain’t got it,” he said.