The foreign secretary nodded and glanced at his phone as it buzzed. ‘Division coming up. We are bidden to vote.’ He stood. ‘Only other thing is your future, Charles. Now that Mr Horley has removed himself from the succession we need to find someone else. Attempts have been made—’

‘Informal soundings only,’ said Robin. ‘No one has yet been invited to apply.’

‘. . . but it appears there’s not exactly a stampede. No one wants the job, no one suitable, anyway. Bit too early for your new director of operations, your Sonia Something lady, to be in the frame for it, I suppose? Apparently this stuff the Russians have been putting out about MI6 knocking off its own number two because he wanted out has been putting applicants off. Not helped by those articles by that Tessa Mountain woman. Amazing what nonsense people will believe. Lucky no one’s put you in the frame for it. Lucky for the negotiations, too.’ The division rang loudly. The foreign secretary moved towards the door, tucking his shirt tail into his trousers. ‘Thanks for your good work, Charles. Looks like you may have to stay on. For a while, anyway.’

‘He means it, I’m afraid,’ said Robin as the door closed. ‘The cabinet secretary would like you to stay. But up to you, of course. And Sarah. She presumably has a dog in the fight?’

It was months later when Charles and Sarah attended another function at Anya’s parents’ Wimbledon house. It was a more subdued affair than the wedding, though with many of the same people. Neither funeral nor wake, it was billed as a celebration of Daniel’s life and for Akela and the child she was expecting. The weather was no longer warm enough for it to be held on the lawn, but the house was large and the French windows were open onto the terrace.

Anya’s parents were generous, making every effort not only for their widowed daughter but for Daniel’s family and friends. Anya’s father spoke fulsomely and sensitively, followed by Daniel’s estranged father, who spoke briefly and adequately. Deborah stood beside him, immaculate as ever but silent, her face thinner and more lined.

‘She’s coping very well,’ said Sarah afterwards as they drove back to Westminster. ‘I really admire her for it. Bad enough losing him but no funeral means no closure. It was so kind of Anya’s and Akela’s parents to do this. Was it really impossible to recover anything of the body?’

Charles had seen photographs taken from the drone that fired the missile. All the occupants of the car – there were two others unknown – had been instantaneously dissolved into the atoms from which they were constituted. The car itself was barely recognisable as such. ‘There would have been nothing left. Anyway, it was in IS territory so no one could have collected it if there had been anything.’