“I mean, I think you were trying to praise the woman for not being a hypocrite, but I could see how someone might take it the wrong way. Especially the widow of a camp survivor.”

“Oh, rubbish! You’d have to be a lunatic to think I was in any way sympathizing with her political beliefs. She went to prison for them, rightly, obviously, but then built a new life for herself. That’s what interested me about her. I was interested in people who’ve had to start afresh in life. I’d done a whole series of articles on second acts. The book proposal came directly out of those.”

“I didn’t know that. Marco only read me the parts where you seemed to be praising her for not recanting her National Socialist principles.”

She flung up a hand.

“Of course I wasn’t praising her.”

“Also for calling Germany a land of bankers.”

“God almighty!”

“I mean, to be fair, even your friend, or former friend, seemed to find it strange. She said in her report she thought you might have gone off the deep end.”

“Andrea?”

“If that’s—”

“She’s the only person who saw it. She told me it’d be a tough sell so I didn’t show it to anyone else. I’ve often wished I had. That’s one of the things I write about in my memoir by the way—my chronic lack of self-confidence.”

“She didn’t tell you it came over as, you know . . .”

“No! Nobody tells me anything, apparently. Except you.”

“I’m sorry to be a bringer of bad tidings.”

“Though here’s something even you probably don’t know, which is that I had a fling with Andrea’s husband. He was a junior minister under Blair and some photographer snapped us in his limousine. That’s why Andrea’s so keen to dish on me, no doubt.”

“Huh.”

“Not that it makes any difference. I’m sure Alec Rosedale would have got some other dirt into his grubby little mitts if this hadn’t shown up. Or rather twisted some other perfectly innocent thing to make it look like dirt. That’s what those people do, isn’t it?”

“Lawyers?”

She gave me an angry look.

“Yes, lawyers.”

Dusk had fallen outside. The rain had slowed. Yellow lights gleamed blurrily below us. Julia leaned against an empty bookcase.

“So. Money. What else? You said Marco had a few different theories.”

I shrugged. A slight weariness had fallen on me. “Does it matter what he thinks?”

“It matters to me. Tell me.”

“Well, he thought maybe you were punishing him for not offering you a serious relationship.”

“Rubbish. Rubbish! What a fucking arrogant bastard!”

“But actually then he changed his mind and said he thought it was more that he’d somehow ruined your relationship with Gerald.”