‘I sent it to you twenty minutes ago. Suppose I’ll have to redo it now to include this latest development. We can’t very well not tell them, can we? Officials will be even less keen regardless of what the foreign secretary thinks. Won’t go down very well with the PM, either, I’d have thought.’

Charles nodded.

Sonia sighed. ‘I mean, for all we know he could be holed up with some journalist somewhere who’s about to blow the whole story and bring the negotiations crashing down.’

‘Why would he want to do that?’

‘To get his revenge in first. That’s the kind of man he is, I’ve always thought. I know you haven’t.’ She shrugged. ‘But they ought to know, oughtn’t they, in Whitehall? We can’t not tell them.’

‘They ought, yes.’ Charles looked again in the direction of the river. Most of it was blocked from sight from Smith Square but there was a sliver just visible between St. John’s and the buildings on the Embankment. Life would be simpler if Gareth took that option. But he wouldn’t, he was sure. He’d have an agenda and somewhere, somehow he’d be pursuing it. It would no longer include rising to the top of the Service, of course, nor any other Whitehall plum. He’d burned his boats now. Maybe something financial, somewhere abroad. ‘But later,’ he continued, ‘we’ll tell them later. Important thing now is to get the EU negotiators to believe what we want them to believe. Which means getting the sub signed off a.s.a.p.’

‘Shouldn’t take long if the foreign secretary’s already agreed in principle.’

‘The PM hasn’t, nor the Brexit secretary, who doesn’t yet know about it. You know as well as I do that in Whitehall if it’s not on paper it doesn’t exist. So better get it over.’

‘You haven’t read it yet.’

‘I’ve learned to trust your drafting over the years. Now find Gareth.’

‘Is that all?’

As Sonia left Jenny again poked her head around the door. ‘Suzanne Horley has been ringing you. Wants you to call her back. I’ve got their home number here.’

Perhaps a body had been found after all. However, Suzanne sounded self-possessed and matter-of-fact. ‘I suppose you know what’s happened?’

‘I know Gareth’s disappeared, yes. Is there anything . . . ?’

‘No news, nothing at all. I suspect he has another woman somewhere. He must have – he wouldn’t run off to commune with himself in solitude. You don’t know of any mistresses, Charles? Be honest, we’ve all known each other long enough and I’ve no illusions about Gareth. It’s a feature of our marriage. Has been for years.’