Through this novel, I also learned a lot about publicity. One of the most exciting days of my life had been the day, back in 1979, that I got a call from my literary agent telling me that WH Allen, then one of the leading publishing houses, had accepted my first novel – Dead Letter Drop – for publication and wanted to make a two-book deal. It was followed a year-and-a-half later by one of the most disappointing days of my life – publication day for Dead Letter Drop.

Early that morning, I got up and went into Brighton, rushing around looking in each bookshop window in turn, and could see no sign of my book in any of them. Worse, when I went inside and mumbled, ‘Erm, do you have a novel called Dead Letter Drop by the author Peter James?’ none of them had heard of it!

I then found out to my dismay that a mere 1,750 copies had been printed, of which about 1,600 had gone to libraries. WH Smith, God bless them – I will eternally be grateful to them – had been the only bookstore chain to buy it, with a whopping order of thirty copies. Or, to put it more positively, twenty per cent of the entire available print run after the libraries had bought their share! WH Smith had them all in their flagship store in London’s Sloane Square, but nowhere else.

Feeling very downhearted, I picked up a copy of the Bookseller magazine and began browsing through it, looking enviously at the success stories of other authors and at the bestseller lists, showing each of the names listed selling many thousands of hardbacks of their titles. Then I came across an article on independent publicists, and it was a light-bulb moment for me. Yes! Publicity! That’s exactly what I needed!

There was one firm – Pengelly-Mulliken – which got a bigger mention than all the others, so I made an appointment to go and meet with the two bosses, Carole Pengelly and Tony Mulliken. It was to be a fateful meeting. Today Tony Mulliken is one of my closest mates, and his firm – Midas PR – have been my brilliant publicists for many years. But it didn’t start too well.

I explained that there was a lot of controversy in the UK about the siting of new nuclear power stations and, with a clever publicity campaign, we could stir up a lot of interest in the novel. Carole and Tony agreed enthusiastically. Then came the cruncher. How much would it cost, I asked.

‘Well, a full nationwide tour, including Scotland, would be three thousand pounds,’ Tony replied.

I then explained, rather embarrassed, that my entire advance for the book was only two thousand pounds – not a big sum even back then. The two of them left the room, then returned a few minutes later. Tony said, ‘If you could drive yourself – or better, have your wife drive you – then we could do it for two thousand!’