“How did you know Maisie, Mr. Lister?” Emma asked, because he was right, she couldn’t place him.

“I’m chairman of the governors of the Bristol Royal Infirmary. She was one of our volunteers and will be sadly missed by patients and staff alike.”

“I had no idea,” said Emma. “What did she do?”

“She was in charge of the lending library and organized the daily rota for the book trolley to be taken around the wards. More people read books at BRI than in almost any other hospital in the country.”

“Why am I not surprised,” said Emma. “Are you looking for someone to replace her, because if you are, I’d certainly be happy to do so.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Clifton, that isn’t the reason I’m calling.”

“But I’m confident I could organize the library and, what’s more, my family has had a close association with the hospital for many years. My grandfather, Sir Walter Barrington, was chairman of the governors, my husband was nursed back to health at BRI after being seriously wounded by a German landmine in 1945, and my mother spent the last months of her life there under the care of Dr. Raeburn. What’s more, I was born at the Royal Infirmary.”

“I’m impressed, Mrs. Clifton, but I still don’t think you’re the right person to organize the book trolley.”

“May I ask why you won’t even consider me?”

“Because I was rather hoping you’d agree to become a governor of the hospital.”

Emma was momentarily silenced. “I’m not altogether sure I know what a hospital governor does.”

“Every major NHS hospital—and ours is one of the largest in the country—has a board of governors drawn from the local community.”

“And what would my responsibilities be?”

“We hold a meeting every quarter, and I also invite each trustee to take an interest in one particular department of the hospital. I thought nursing might appeal to you. Our senior matron, Mima Puddicombe, represents the two thousand nurses who work full- or part-time at BRI. I should mention that if you agree to become a governor, there is no remuneration or expenses. I realize you are a busy woman, Mrs. Clifton, with many responsibilities, but I do hope you’ll give some thought to my proposal before you make—”

“I’ve thought about it.”

Mr. Lister sighed. “Yes, I feared you’d be too busy with all your other commitments, and of course I thoroughly understand—”

“I’d be delighted to become a governor of the hospital, Mr. Chairman. When do I start?”

*   *   *

“Marshal Koshevoi is becoming somewhat restless, Comrade Brandt. He thinks it’s time you came up with something a little more tangible. After all, you’ve been living with Barrington for the past year and all you’ve produced so far is the minutes of the Labour Party’s weekly meetings in the House of Lords. Hardly illuminating.”