A small street in Belgravia. Tall houses. People watch the comings and goings of their neighbours. It’s like a theatre. There’s an awful financier and his awful wife. There’s a peer of the realm and his wife and daughter, both of whom are having an affair with the peer’s driver. There’s Thea, who wants to find a man, and Montserrat, who is half-Spanish and reminds you of the femmes fatales in old movies.
