Harry put down his paper, walked across to the sideboard and picked up the phone. “Hello, Giles, yes, I did read the piece about Margaret Thatcher in the Times. Yes, of course. It’s your brother on the line, wants to have a word with you,” said Harry, unable to hide a smirk.

Emma folded her napkin, put it back in its ring, stood up and made her way slowly out of the room. “Tell him I’m out canvassing.”

*   *   *

After Karin had bought six pairs of gray woollen socks, size nine, and a black leather handbag that she knew Emma coveted, she boarded a bus in Sloane Square and headed for the Palace of Westminster. A badge messenger directed her to the Lords’ tearoom. “Never step off the red carpet, madam, and you won’t go far wrong.”

As she entered the tearoom, Karin immediately spotted a gray-haired old lady hunched up in the corner looking as if she might have been Margaret Rutherford’s older sister. She managed a wave, and Karin walked across to join her.

“Cynthia Forbes-Watson,” the old lady said, trying to rise from her place.

“No, no,” said Karin quickly, sitting down opposite her hostess.

“How lovely to meet you,” said the old lady, offering a thin, bony hand, although her voice was strong. “I read about your amazing escape from behind the Iron Curtain. That must have been quite an ordeal.”

“It would never have been possible without Giles.”

“Yes, he’s a fine man, if occasionally impetuous,” she said as a waiter appeared by their side. “Tea for two, Stanley, and a couple of those awful crumpets, slightly burnt. And don’t be mean with the butter.”

“Certainly, my lady.”

“I see you’ve been shopping.”

“Yes, Giles needed some socks. It’s also his sister’s birthday and he forgot to get her a present. She and her husband are joining us for dinner this evening.”

“It’s never easy to find the right present for another woman,” said the baroness, as a tray of tea and two slightly burnt crumpets was placed on the table between them. “I’ll be mother. Milk?”

“Yes, please,” said Karin.

“Sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

“How sensible,” said the baroness as she put two heaped spoonfuls in her own cup. “But then it’s a bit late for me to be worrying about my figure.” Karin laughed dutifully. “Now, you must be wondering why I wanted to see you.”

“Giles told me you regularly hold little tea parties.”

“Not like this one I don’t.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

The baroness put down her cup and looked directly at Karin. “I want you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say, young lady.” Although she spoke softly, her words were clear. “This will be the only time we ever meet, unless you follow my instructions to the letter.”