‘Well, Zoe loves it,’ said Button. Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve still got Katra, right?’

‘Sure, and she’s great. But I’m away all the time and he’s an only child.’

‘That was the thing that swung it for Zoe,’ said Button. ‘It’s different if they’ve got siblings but when they’re on their own they really are better off with children their own age. Gives them social skills and they get their own network of friends. Zoe goes skiing with one of her pals and her parents and last year she spent two weeks in Hong Kong with one of the boarders whose family runs a hotel chain in Asia. And whichever way you look at it, they do so much better academically. There’s no chasing them to do homework, very little in the way of discipline problems and you can be reasonably sure that some inner-city wannabe gangster isn’t going to mug them for their mobile phone or lunch money.’

‘Are there any downsides?’

Button nodded slowly. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘You lose them that much quicker.’

‘In what way?’

Button sighed. ‘They grow up so fast anyway but when they’re away at school it seems to happen quicker. They become more independent, they learn to sort out their own problems, stand on their own two feet.’

‘That’s good, right?’

Button winced. ‘Of course it’s good, but there are times when you wish it didn’t happen so fast. They only have one childhood and the bits you miss you never get back.’

‘But on balance it’s a good thing?’

‘I think so, yes. If you want I can get you a brochure for Culford. Or they have a website you can look at.’

‘Yeah, the website’s fine, but I’m hoping to find something closer to Hereford.’ He stood up and as always when saying goodbye he was confused about what to do. A handshake seemed too formal, but she was his boss so a hug or a kiss on the cheek seemed too personal. He grinned and gave her a small wave.

She smiled back with an amused glint in her eye and he knew that she sensed his confusion. She mimicked his wave. ‘You take care, and polish up your secretarial skills, just in case.’

The Mercedes pulled up in front of a terraced house in Southall. ‘Wait outside, I won’t be more than ten minutes,’ Crazy Boy told his driver. The driver nodded. Crazy Boy jerked his chin at Two Knives. ‘Get the case out of the boot.’ Two Knives was a cousin, a fierce fighter when he had been a pirate, the man that Crazy Boy had used to carry out hostage executions when shipping companies had been slow in paying ransoms. Crazy Boy had given him the nickname because when he boarded a ship he always had two large curved knives, one on either hip. He had joined Crazy Boy in London a year earlier after paying ten thousand pounds to a group of Chinese traffickers. The Chinese were the best traffickers in the world. No one was better at moving people, arms or drugs. He had applied for asylum and his lawyer had assured him that he would have British citizenship within three years.