‘Afternoon,’ said Jameson. ‘There’s coffee in the pot, tea in the cupboard.’

Harry poured himself a coffee despite his headache and placed a slice of bread in the toaster. ‘Is this your place then?’

Jameson continued to type. ‘Yes and no.’

‘Who do you hide from here?’

Jameson looked up and his expression was amused. ‘No one any more.’

‘You were MI5?’

‘Six.’

‘When did you leave?’

‘Five years ago.’

‘Why?’

Jameson returned to his work. ‘The usual reason. To get a life.’

Harry could relate to that. He’d spent more time away from his children than with them when they were young. At the time he’d thought it necessary for his job and career. Only now did he wonder if he had justified it to suit his own selfish ambition. ‘I want to see my kids.’

‘I’m sure you do.’

‘I’m not sharing. I’m requesting.’

Jameson closed the laptop and faced Harry. ‘You know why you’re here in this house?’

‘I need to see them. If someone has come for me twice now, they’ll keep coming. You know that and I know that. Whatever I’ve done or whatever I know, these people want to shut me up. I’m not hiding here until that happens without telling my kids I love them.’

‘But if you meet them, you make them a target.’

‘They’re already a target. The fact I have two children is no secret. I want to see them as soon as possible.’ Harry ate his toast then rinsed his plate in the sink and placed it on the drainer. He walked to the lounge where a whole wall was now taken up with photographs linked by red string and held in place with drawing pins. ‘What’s this?’ he called.

‘It’s the thirty-seven minutes before the bomb went off at the ball.’

Harry followed the string from its starting point. ‘Tell me about it.’

‘Is that a good idea?’

‘Why not? You want to know if I remember anything but I need something to work from.’

‘Isn’t there a danger of creating false memories?’

‘Karene and Augusta seem pretty sure my memories aren’t coming back, so why not tell me what you know, see if anything jumps out.’

Jameson took a second to decide and then joined him. ‘The first sighting I have of you is thirty-seven minutes before detonation when you are captured in the background of this selfie.’

‘That’s a photo from someone’s phone.’ Harry looked around the others again. ‘Most of these are. How did you get them?’