Maggie tried to sip her coffee but it was too hot. She put the cup down. She couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that she’d been complicit in something – and disloyal to his Lordship – by meeting the American.

It was a relief when Lady Ashford changed the subject.

‘It’s an awfully big world out there, you know, Maggie,’ she said. ‘Bigger than Snowden, or London or England itself.’

Maggie frowned, wondering where the conversation was going. But in the next moment, her Ladyship brightened and changed topic again.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘do let me set your mind at rest. This is one of the safest buildings in London. Reinforced concrete, everywhere. There was terrible bombing last night of course but we were absolutely fine here. And if the sirens do go off …’ She sighed. ‘Oh, what a terrible bore that is – but we can pop down to the Turkish bath in the basement.’ She laughed. ‘I know, it’s amazing, isn’t it? It’s perfectly warm down there and the jazz band plays in one of the neighbouring rooms, so it’s not too shabby. They bring us champagne and smoked salmon if it drags on for too long. But …’ She held her elegant finger aloft. ‘Half the time we simply don’t bother going down. There’s too much fun to be had up here!’

Maggie felt lightheaded. She’d thought Snowden Hall was an oasis from the war but this place was another world entirely. She could hardly wait to report back to Charity.

Lady Ashford put down her coffee cup and as if reading Maggie’s mind, said, ‘You know, you’d probably better not mention any of this, when you get back. People get the wrong idea.’

When it was time for Maggie to leave – and to her relief Jack Rosman hadn’t been mentioned once – Lady Ashford insisted on accompanying her to the hotel entrance. She twisted her hands and looked uncharacteristically unsure of herself.

‘I’m not … that’s to say, I may not be back at Snowden for some time, Maggie. So, do look after the place for me, won’t you?’

She laughed and then, suddenly more serious, she took Maggie’s hand and squeezed it gently. ‘Do be careful, Maggie. It’s awfully blitzy out there,’ she said. ‘So long! Farewell.’

* * *

On the bus ride to Poplar, Maggie felt as though ants were running round inside her. There was something fishy about Lady Ashford and that American chap. What on earth would she say if his Lordship asked about her visit? If he knew what Maggie suspected about his wife, it would break his heart.