Muriel Spark was a sneaky old lady. There I was, going through Aiding and Abetting and thinking to myself, Oh dear, the old girl’s was a bit past it when she wrote this - when all the time she’d been having me on. Leading me up the garden path.

The book, I thought, was turning out a bit dull and old-fashioned. And not terribly well focused. But then she suddenly ups and hits you with a few surprises. It’s an experience rather like asking an awfully respectable old lady if she needs any help in crossing the road, only to be told Fuck off, sunshine, I can manage very well.