‘Of course,’ he said from the doorway. ‘I’ll check on it.’

Úrsúla accompanied him along the corridor towards her office, and as she was fumbling for her access card to open the minister’s corridor, she noticed a very young dark-skinned woman pushing a cleaning trolley.

‘Hæ,’ Úrsúla said, putting out a hand. ‘I’m the new minister. I don’t suppose you can tell me where someone could sneak out for a quiet smoke?’

4

There had been a strange crackle of tension in the air the whole of the previous day, and Stella was still feeling its effects. Everyone went about their work more quietly than usual, and there had been more couriers and journalists about the place than usual.

The receptionist downstairs had asked Stella to mop the lobby especially thoroughly because of the snow that was brought in on coats and the soles of shoes, and melted into muddy pools on the 12floor. She did her best, making the occasional quick sortie downstairs with a mop to wipe up the worst of the water. She didn’t want to be caught out not doing as she had been asked, as that would undoubtedly end up with the permanent secretary being called, as he seemed to be the top dog here. Stella found him frightening. She had encountered him once, when he had said hello, welcoming her to the ministry when she had started a few months ago. He had smiled amiably, but Stella had wanted to turn on her heel and run as fast as she could, as the touch of his hot hand gave her a feeling of pure, clear misery. This had taken her by surprise, as he seemed to be a man to whom life had been generous – tall, handsome with a senior job – so the dark sadness she sensed from him didn’t fit. Or maybe this sensitivity of hers was playing tricks on her. Her mother had always said that the gift she had inherited from her grandmother had come with a generous portion of imagination.

‘It’s always like this when there’s a new minister,’ the receptionist said. ‘Everyone’s stressed and worried, and then it turns out that the new minister is always lovely. I saw her yesterday when she came to collect the key and she seemed relaxed and cheerful.’

Stella shrugged. She had hardly had anything to do with the former minister; she’d only ever seen him hurrying along the corridors with a phone clamped to his ear. He had never spoken to her, and neither would the new minister. The receptionist was different, as everyone said hello when they came in, but cleaners were as good as invisible.

‘Well, she’s here,’ she heard people say as she passed by, emptying the bins. ‘Have you seen her yet?’

The new minister was in the building and had started work, but nobody seemed to have caught sight of her. She would probably not address the ministry staff until tomorrow, but people were sure they would recognise her, as last night’s news covered the change of minister and there had been a short clip in which she was holding the key.