“Up and down like Tower Bridge,” said Alex as she passed him his drink, all too aware that Lady Virginia only ever invited him to visit her when she wanted something. Not that he could complain; he wasn’t exactly flush since he’d lost his place on the board of Barrington’s. Virginia wasted no time coming to the point.

“Do you recall our successful little sortie with Bob Bingham a couple of years ago?”

“Could I ever forget?” said Alex. “Mind you, it’s not something I’d ever want to repeat,” he added quickly.

“No, that wasn’t what I had in mind. But I do need you to do a little digging for me. I’d like to know how much Bingham is worth. His company, his shareholdings, properties, particularly the properties, and any other source of income he may have that he wouldn’t want the taxman to know about. Dig deep and spare no details, however insignificant they might seem.”

“And…”

“You’ll be paid five pounds an hour plus expenses, and a bonus of twenty-five pounds if I’m satisfied with your work.”

Alex smiled. Virginia had never once in the past paid the promised bonus, and her idea of expenses was to travel third class and not stay overnight. But given his present circumstances, he wasn’t able to scoff at five pounds an hour.

“When do you need my report?”

“In ten days’ time, Alex. And then I may well have another job for you, nearer home.”

*   *   *

Virginia had planned Priscilla Bingham’s visit to London with military precision. Nothing was left to chance.

On the Monday, the two of them were driven to Epsom, where they joined Lord Malmsbury in his private box on the finishing line. Priscilla clearly enjoyed having a badge for the royal enclosure, where several men complimented her on her Hartnell outfit and “Jackie Kennedy” pillbox hat. She hadn’t received so much attention in years.

On Tuesday, following a light lunch at Simpson’s, they dropped into a drinks reception at the Banqueting House before going on to a gala dinner at the Savoy in aid of the Red Cross, where Matt Monro serenaded the guests.

On Wednesday, it was the turn of the Queen’s Club, where they watched a polo match between a Windsor team captained by the young Prince Charles, and a visiting Argentinian side, most of whom Priscilla couldn’t take her eyes off. In the evening, they had house seats for Funny Girl, a new musical with its original Broadway star, Barbra Streisand, which had queues for returns that were the envy of every other West End theater.