“Through Harborstone Trust.

Balloon structure, floating rate, personal guarantees attached.

You’ve missed three payments.”

For the first time all afternoon, Winston stopped smiling.

It is a particular thing to watch, the moment a man like that hears his own numbers said back to him by someone he has decided does not matter.

The confidence does not vanish all at once — it flickers, like a bulb about to go, while some deeper part of him races to work out how the pretty girl in the ruined dress knows the term balloon structure, knows the word guarantees, knows the exact count of missed payments that he himself has been trying not to count.