Of the eight fee-paying students at College Sunrise in Lausanne, Chris was the only one to give Rowland disquiet. Nina and Rowland had always been agreed that the whole purpose of the enterprise was Rowland's novel. Yet while his lay largely unwritten, his red-headed student's advanced swiftly.

"He's only 17," Nina comforted. "It's probably rubbish."

Rowland was not convinced. He had asked Chris if he could read his manuscript, and had been turned down. Worse still, Rowland had alerted Chris to his interest and the student had now passed on his work to Pallas for safe-keeping.

"Do you find your characters have a life of their own?" Rowland enquired one day.

"No, they do only what I tell them."

Rowland damned Chris for his self-assurance. How dare he directly contradict the third lecture of Rowland's creative writing course?

"It's hard to find a publisher for your kind of work," Rowland added spitefully.

"I already have a couple who are interested and I'm talking to someone about the film rights this weekend."

As the months passed, Nina began to resent her husband's paralysis.

"You've got to do something about your jealousy. Maybe you should spend some time in a monastery."

"Well, you've been having an affair with Dr Brown." Which was true, but then Nina had been planning her exit from the marriage and would one day go on to wed Dr Brown and become an art historian.

After three weeks alone in the seminary, Rowland felt the grip of his obsession loosen. There was a knock on his door.

"Come back. I need you," Chris implored. "I can't write without your jealousy."

The torture returned. "I'm going to have to kill him," Rowland confided to Nina.

The well-known publisher Monty Fergusson arrived in town. "Would you like to come along to meet him?" Chris asked Rowland.

"I've read your novel," said Fergusson. "Obviously it's shit, but as you're 17 it will be quite saleable if I can get a good editor to work on it."

Fergusson died a few weeks later, but his opinion had got around and interest in Chris's work began to dissipate. Only one publisher, Grace Formby, held firm. She, too, thought Chris's age was marketable, but was more taken with the idea of Rowland's observations of teaching in a Swiss finishing school.

"You bastard," yelled Chris, as he barged in on Rowland relaxing in his bath. "You've turned the publishers against me." He picked up the electric fire. Rowland jumped out of the bath and tried to grab him.

Chris's book received reasonable notices on its publication, as did Rowland's. Chris joined Rowland at the college and after a year they engaged in a same-sex affirmation ceremony.

The digested read ... digested

The old ones are often the best