‘There might have been some talk in the bars,’ Lomax said. ‘But it was the time of the by-election and no one wanted any fuss. No one cared about her, you see. She was a pretty secretary. Dispensable. I even heard one friend of Grenville’s say that he thought she’d taken the honourable way out.’

He drained the can of beer. ‘Enough to turn you into a raving feminist, isn’t it? I don’t know what Jane would have said.’

‘The police must have investigated the death?’

‘I presume so. But she’d got rid of everything in the flat belonging to Grenville and she didn’t leave a note of explanation. It was soon forgotten. There are always new scandals.’

No, George thought. It wasn’t forgotten. Not by Daniel Craven. Of course Kate had confided in him. She always had. Craven would know about his sister and Marcus Grenville. He had an excellent motive for revenge. His anger had built up in the two years since her death and he had come to the Cadver with the intention of paying Grenville back. Why had Marcus taken him on? George wondered. Surely not through guilt. Perhaps he thought it would be safer to have Craven on the estate where he could keep an eye on him. Perhaps he had hoped it would all blow over.

‘What’s the word in the bars on Marcus Grenville?’ George asked. ‘What do people say about him?’

Lomax answered readily. It was the sort of gossip he was accustomed to and enjoyed.

‘They think he’ll definitely make the Cabinet next time round,’ he said. ‘Unless he does anything stupid. Of course his wife’s a liability, but that doesn’t matter so much these days.’

‘Why is Olivia considered a liability?’ George asked.

‘Well, you know, she’s practically an agoraphobic recluse. A Tory MP’s wife is expected to get out into the constituency, open jumble sales, hold garden parties. You know the sort of thing, George.’

‘Yes,’ George said. ‘I know the sort of thing.’

He was interested in the marriage Marcus and Olivia had devised together and for the first time felt some sympathy and admiration for Grenville’s wife. Why should she be her husband’s social secretary? It must have taken a certain courage to stand up against the party machine. He would have liked to follow up the line of questioning. But there was no opportunity. The front door was pushed open with tremendous force and two solid young boys in designer trainers and brightly coloured jogging suits burst in on them demanding food.

‘Why don’t you stay, George?’ Lomas said hopefully. ‘Meet the other four.’

But George said that he had a train to catch and took the tube to King’s Cross.