‘As I just mentioned, sir, it is only because I recently met one of the Brigadier’s ex-mistresses when I was evacuated. It was her story that convinced me that the Brigadier’s conduct is worse than it ever was and consequently Lady Veronica must be suffering even more than when I was working as her maid.’

‘Who is this friend of yours?’

‘A Miss Sybil Harwood, sir.’

‘The woman who worked at the War Office with Monty?’

‘Yes, sir. She’s briefly in London. Would you care to meet her?’

Lord Stow didn’t answer yes or no, he simply said, ‘Arrange it with the butler.’

At their pre-arranged Friday meeting in the Lyons’ Corner House in Oxford Circus, Rosie ran through her terrifying conversation with Lord Stow.

‘He thought I was after his money,’ she said hotly. ‘Asked why it had taken me so long to report the matter.’

Looking up from her plate of baked beans on toast, Sybil smiled. ‘Fair point.’

‘I said if I hadn’t met you, I would have left the whole business in the past, but knowing he was still carrying on with other women made me feel sorrier than ever for Lady Veronica.’

Sybil rolled her big green eyes that had regained their bright sparkle. ‘I bumped into an old chum in Whitehall, who told me about yet another silly young woman whom Monty banished after getting her pregnant. God, poor Veronica, tolerating a man like that – I’d have put a bullet between his eyes years ago.’

‘You wouldn’t if you’d got a little girl to protect,’ Rosie said knowingly.

Sybil shrugged. ‘Being a woman who seemingly hasn’t a maternal bone in her body, I might have considered it,’ she replied.

Knowing how detached Sybil had been throughout the adoption process of her son, Rosie didn’t argue about her friend’s maternal instincts.

‘Anyway, he wants to see you,’ Rosie said excitedly. ‘This afternoon, before he returns to Stowupland.’

Sybil smiled as she stirred her tea. ‘You did well, Rosie.’

Her friend gave her a hard look. ‘And so must you, Sybil.’

Before they left the crowded café with its steamy windows, Rosie showed Sybil the letter which she had recently been given by the landlord of the Finsbury Park public house.

‘It’s about my husband,’ she explained as she handed it over. ‘I just don’t know what to do for the best,’ she admitted with tears in her sad dark eyes. Waiting tensely until Sybil had read the letter, Rosie gulped hard as she swallowed her tears. ‘Honestly, what chance have I got of finding anything out?’

‘You must have made enquiries with Mick’s regiment,’ Sybil asked.