‘I’m fine.’ My heart was beating uncomfortably fast. ‘I don’t have much time. The children, you know … ‘

‘Of course.’ He inclined his heavy head. ‘How many do you have now?’

How did he know I had any at all?

‘Three.’ I prayed my calmness belied the turmoil inside.

‘Three.’ He smiled and smoothed a hand across the tablecloth. He wore a heavy gold signet ring that looked like it should weigh his little finger down. I tried to remember the family motto. Dalziel had had a copy of the crest hanging in his hallway; something about Truth and Fortitude.

‘And you?’

‘Oh, you know.’ He met my eye, and the sheer insouciance gave me a sudden flash of his son. I dropped my gaze. ‘I lose count sometimes.’

I felt my past galloping at my heels; a faint sweat broke out across my top lip. I stared at the tired white rose in a small green vase on the table between us. I forced myself to speak. ‘So, Lord Higham. What did you want to talk about?’

‘I’ve been thinking …’ He gazed at the painting behind me for a moment. ‘There’s a nice little spot coming up on one of the red-tops. A kind of upmarket gossip column, if you like. More classy than those silly 3 a.m. girls. Do with it what you will. Make it your own.’ He looked back at me, reached into his inside pocket for something. ‘Might that appeal?’

‘That’s kind,’ I muttered, ‘but I’m not sure it’s really my field.’

‘You could make it your field, of course. If you so chose.’

‘I’m more current affairs, you know.’ I thought of Xav’s discomfort earlier. ‘Why are you making this offer now?’

‘Why not?’ He brought a cigar out now, rolled it between thick fingers. Each one sprouted a patch of springy hair. A goat, I thought, he’s like a large apparently benevolent goat. And then I thought of Azazel, devil goat; horrid Brian in that nasty mask bending over the insensible Huriyyah. I shuddered involuntarily.

‘I’ve just—’ I didn’t want to mention Xavier’s name. ‘I know there’s no place for me on the Guardian. So why now?’

‘Is it not good to have friends in high places, Rose?’ he smiled. But the smile went nowhere near his eyes. ‘And current affairs, well. There’s a time and a place. And this is most definitely not the time.’

‘High places?’

‘I imagine you’ve heard the rumours about the party. There’s likely to be an election soon; the government can’t possibly keep up this ridiculous charade. It’s time for new blood. Or rather,’ he tapped the cigar hard on the table, ‘old blood.’

‘What kind of old blood?’ I frowned.