‘And his darling common-law wife, Isis, also known as Anna Maria de Burgh Coppinger, Mistress of John Montagu, the fourth Earl of Sandwich and live-in lover of the famous Shakespearean scholar Henry Ireland. Departed this veil of tears 1802, presumably for the greener pastures of Chertsey.’

‘Chertsey?’

‘That’s where the Oxley river is,’ he said.

If I was going to see Oxley again then I figured I might as well kill two birds with one stone. I called Beverley on her waterproof mobile and asked her if she was up for a field trip. Just in case her mum’s prohibition was still in force, I was going to tell her that it was in aid of ‘dealing’ with Father Thames, but I never got the chance to say it.

‘Are we taking the Jag?’ she asked. ‘No offence, but your other car stinks.’

I told her yes, and she was buzzing on the entryphone fifteen minutes later. Obviously she’d been lurking about the West End already.

‘Mum’s got me sniffing around,’ she said as she climbed into the Jag. ‘Looking for your revenant.’ She was wearing a black embroidered bolero over a red roll-neck jumper and black leggings.

‘Would you know a revenant if you saw one?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

I wanted to watch her tuck her long legs under the dash, but I figured the temperature was high enough already. My dad once told me that the secret to a happy life was never to start something with a girl unless you were willing to follow wherever it led. It’s the best piece of advice he’s ever given me, and probably the reason I was born. I concentrated on getting the Jag out of the garage and setting a course for the South-West and the wrong side of the river again.