‘That’s the whole idea. Since Consuls rarely die of old age, I thought we could have our fond dotage now, while we still can. We could meet up after work, and just kind of sit together in companionable silence. You might darn a sock and make comments from time to time while I read, and you could say “Yes, dear”, or “That’s interesting” when I say something intelligent you don’t understand. We could even play Cluedo, but only if I can be Miss Scarlett and not the murderers.’

‘That’s not quite how Cluedo works,’ I said, and she frowned, so I gave her a quick run-down on the rules while we ate.

‘You seem very expert,’ she said, which was hardly a word I’d use – Cluedo isn’t that complex.

‘Sister Zygotia used to play it with us at the Pool,’ I said.

Not many people talked about the Pool. But now that we were, Jonesy was curious.

‘Were you there long?’

‘Last one out.’

‘What was it like?’

Pools, like meals, terriers and promises, all varied in quality – there were Pools barely suitable for livestock and there was the highly desirable Wackford & Co. with branches in Paris, London and New York.

‘Any institution has room for improvement,’ I said, ‘but on the whole I think it was okay – I just stayed there too long. Look,’ I added, ‘I don’t want to appear ungrateful or anything, but I’d be a lot happier just heading off home, straight back to Cardiff.’

‘No can do, Wonky. Toccata wants to see you, so that’s what’s going to happen. Pass the ketchup.’

‘There isn’t any.’

‘Yes,’ she said with a mournful expression, ‘we watered it down and told the winsomniacs it was tomato soup.’

We fell silent for a moment, but Jonesy, I realised, was never quiet for long. She liked to chatter in order, I think, to fill the dead air, and the Winter was full of dead air. I learned that she was a first-generation settled Guestworker, an outsider of mixed-hemisphere parents. Her mother had been an Argentinian maid who had fallen in love and slept over. Scandalous at the time, but little thought of today.

‘I joined the Service after several tours in the Ottoman,’ she said, then fell silent for a moment. ‘Lost some people out there under my command,’ she said, ‘lost some good people.’

‘Is that why you’re in Sector Twelve?’ I asked.

‘It’s all about payback, I think,’ she said, as if not fully sure herself. ‘Could have retired, but working under Toccata is never dull. Besides, I may actually do some good. It’s not risk-free, but honourable conduct rarely is.’

Once breakfast was done, Jonesy said she had some errands to run and she’d meet me at midday to go and see Toccata.