Miller liked her for that. She was getting the worst kind of raw deal from people who ought to know better, but seldom did, and she was damned if she was going to let them grind her down. He caught her eye and grinned. ‘Anything you’d like to hear?’

She crossed to the piano and one or two people who had been standing there moved away. ‘What about “St Louis Blues”?’ she said. ‘I like that.’

‘My pleasure. What’s your name?’

‘Grace Packard.’

He moved into a solid, pushing arrangement of the great jazz classic that had her snapping her fingers. ‘That’s the greatest,’ she cried, eyes shining. ‘Do you do this for a living?’

He shook his head. ‘Kicks, that’s all. I couldn’t stand the kind of life the pro musicians lead. One-night stands till the early hours, tour after tour and all at the union rate. No icing on that kind of cake.’

‘I suppose not. Do you come here often?’

‘First time.’

‘I thought so,’ she grinned with a sort of gamin charm. ‘A right bunch of zombies.’

Morgan arrived with a drink for her. She put it down on top of the piano and clutched at his arm. ‘This place is like a morgue. Let’s live it up a little.’

Morgan didn’t seem unwilling and followed her on to the floor. As Miller came to the end of the number someone turned the stereogram on again, probably out of sheer bloody-mindedness. He wasn’t particularly worried, got to his feet and moved to the bar. Joanna Hartmann and Faulkner were standing very close together no more than a yard from him and as he waited for the barman to mix him a large gin and tonic, he couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

‘Always the lady, Joanna,’ Faulkner said. ‘Doesn’t anything ever disturb your poise?’

‘Poor Bruno, have I spoiled your little joke? Where did you pick her up, by the way?’

‘The public bar of The King’s Arms. I’d hoped she might enliven the proceedings. At least I’ve succeeded in annoying Frank from the look on his face. Thanks be for small mercies.’

Joanna shook her head and smiled. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

‘I could make several very pleasant suggestions. Variations on a theme, but all eminently worthwhile.’

Before she could reply, Mary Beresford approached and Faulkner louted low. ‘Madam, all homage.’

There was real disgust on her face. ‘You are really the most disgusting man I know. How dare you bring that dreadful creature here.’