‘From yesterday?’ I said, thinking he was referring to my lie. ‘This is old news.’

‘No, just now. I’ve been portering a while and I can recognise a jaunty step when I see one. She also told me to give you a double breakfast on her account and wasn’t being subtle, so I’m not sure she’s intending it to be a secret for long.’

‘Nothing happened,’ I said, ‘she just dropped round to see how I was.’

‘The head of HiberTech Security? Dropping round to see if a new Deputy is okay? C’mon, Charlie. It doesn’t sound very plausible.’

He was right – it didn’t. Aurora was playing me off against Toccata; perhaps forcing me to come and work for her – and pissing off her other self in the process.

‘It’s okay,’ said Lloyd, laying a friendly hand on my shoulder. ‘If this gets out – and it will, mark my words – it’s not through me.’

I sighed. Sister Zygotia had once told me that lies begat lies: ‘You start off by one small lie, then have to tell a larger one to cover that and before you know it, your whole life falls apart and there is nowhere to go but a downward spiral of self-loathing, despondency and despair.’

I told her that was wise counsel, and she responded by saying it was actually the format of the TV comedy Fawlty Dormitorium with Sybil and Basil and Polly and so forth – ‘don’t mention the Ottoman’ – but a sound life-lesson nonetheless.

Lloyd picked up a tea and a coffee pot and I followed him as he threaded his way between the tables. Fodder was already seated, reading an ancient copy of Hollywood Stars with a photo of Richard Burton on the cover. He nodded to me as I sat down, and I nodded in return, feeling oddly satisfied that he’d acknowledged me. At the third table sat Zsazsa, quite alone, a paperback copy of Silver Dollar Amber Heart propped against the milk jug in front of her.

I looked around. The cutlery shone brightly and smelled faintly of metal polish while a freshly-pressed white cloth was spread neatly across the table. Lloyd was making sure that table standards were scrupulously maintained, even if the food itself might be somewhat lacking in quality.

‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked.

‘Which is better?’

‘One’s mostly chicory and the other scavenged tea bags blended with hay. Adding sugar, molasses, curry powder or peanut butter helps. Actually, adding anything helps.’

‘Are either of them toxic?’

The porter had to think for a moment.

‘In that regard the coffee is probably the wiser choice.’

‘Coffee, then.’

The porter poured out a cup. It was dark and tarry and seemed to come out in lumps. He placed down the coffee jug and handed me a battered menu.

‘Everything but the scrambled eggs is off.’