‘Well, I’m a bit busy, pet. My husband’s been away on business and I’m expecting him in any minute now,’ she replied. ‘So, no. No. I’m afraid not. No.’ She wanted them to go away. If they had something to say, she didn’t want to hear it.

The woman reached out and took hold of Pauline’s damp, very, very cold hand. Pauline Pearson thought she felt her heart stop.

‘Aye well, it’s Mr Pearson we’d like to talk to you about…can we come in now, pet, do you think?’

Pauline heard herself whispering ‘No’ over and over again as they came in. It made no difference whatsoever.

Chapter Six

Lord Edward Hunter took a deep breath as he stepped inside the front door of 10 Downing Street. He had waited for this moment ever since he had first been called to the bar in 1974.

It did not disappoint.

He was still holding his breath as his eyes took in the entrance hall on which many famous feet before his had trodden. This invitation was only the start, he told himself. As he climbed the grand staircase, the portraits of past prime ministers smiled down at him. The lackey had already advised him that the prime minister, Andrew Lairg, was waiting for him in the study. Lord Edward Hunter was excited to see this room, so full of history and promise. Winston Churchill had slept in it and the present PM had restored the tradition of working there. Hunter had long suspected that he still had a bit of the innocent child about him, and he found enjoyment in the fact that he could continue to be impressed by such environments. The fact that he was part of this world often amazed him, and he hoped it would long continue to do so.

‘I’m glad you could make it, Edward.’ Andrew Lairg smiled and held out his hand. The PM’s grip was firm and dry but not painful. ‘I think you’ve met Connor Wilson, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, Connor and I have met,’ Lord Hunter replied. How could he forget the in-depth grilling the prime minister’s right-hand man had given him in the Garrick only two weeks ago? Lord Hunter sat in the seat that Andrew Lairg had motioned towards and stared into the fire which roared in the white marble Adam fireplace. The prime minister sat opposite him whilst Connor Wilson poured the drinks. He didn’t bother to ask how Edward liked his whisky. They knew everything about him–or they thought they did.

Andrew Lairg looked preoccupied. ‘How’s the family?’ he asked his guest.

‘Its just Mary and me now that the children are off to university,’ Hunter replied, hoping that this small talk would not go on for long.

‘Are you both in good spirits?’ the prime minister asked.