“He’s cautious by nature, so he may take a little longer. But that’s only because he’s got your best interests at heart.”

“Can’t blame him. After all, he and your mother have been married for over twenty-five years, and they still adore each other.”

“Tell me more about today’s game,” said Seb, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“For the Indians, cricket is not a game, it’s a religion.”

“And we’re guests of the president of the MCC?”

“Yes, Freddie Brown and I both played for the MCC, and he went on to captain England,” Giles said as he parked his car on a yellow line outside the ground. “However, you’re about to find that cricket is a great leveler. There’s sure to be an interesting mix of guests in the president’s box, who only have one thing in common—a passion for the game.”

“Then I’ll be the odd one out,” said Seb.

* * *

“The Cabinet Office.”

“It’s Harry Clifton. Could I have a word with the Cabinet Secretary?”

“Hold on please, sir, I’ll find out if he’s free.”

“Mr. Clifton,” said a voice a few moments later. “What a pleasant surprise. I was only asking your brother-in-law the other day if there had been any progress in getting Anatoly Babakov released.”

“Sadly not, Sir Alan, but that wasn’t the reason I was calling. I need to see you fairly urgently, on a private matter. I wouldn’t bother you unless I considered it important.”

“If you say it’s important, Mr. Clifton, I’ll see you whenever it’s convenient, and I don’t always say that, even to cabinet ministers.”

“I’m in London today to visit my publishers, so if by any chance you could fit me in for fifteen minutes this afternoon…”

“Let me check my diary. Ah, I see the prime minister is at Lord’s to watch the test match, where he’ll have an unofficial meeting with Indira Gandhi, so I don’t expect him back at No.10 much before six. Would four fifteen suit you?”

* * *

“Good morning, Freddie. It was kind of you to invite us.”

“My pleasure, Giles. Nice to be on the same side for a change.”

Giles laughed. “And this is my nephew, Sebastian Clifton, who works in the City.”

“Good morning, Mr. Brown,” said Sebastian, as he shook hands with the president of the MCC. He looked out onto the magnificent ground, which was quickly filling up in anticipation of the opening salvoes.

“England won the toss and have elected to bat,” said the president.

“Good toss to win,” said Giles.

“And is this your first visit to the home of cricket, Sebastian?”

“No, sir, as a schoolboy I saw my uncle score a century for Oxford on this ground.”

“Not many people have achieved that,” said the president, as two of his other guests entered the box and came across to join them.

Sebastian smiled, although he was no longer looking at the former captain of England.

“And this,” said the president, “is an old friend of mine, Sukhi Ghuman, not a bad spin bowler in his time, and his daughter Priya.”