‘Oh – oh, no. I work for Tony and Cyprian; I’m the senior partners’ secretary.’

‘Ah. I wonder why I thought you were John’s too?’

‘I work on a completely different level,’ said Alison. ‘John uses the typing pool. I have nothing to do with him at work.’

‘Yet romance blossomed across secretarial rank and floors?’

She met his facetiousness with more disdainful silence. She seemed to see Strike as intrinsically offensive, somebody undeserving of manners, beyond the pale.

The hostel worker stood alone in a corner, helping himself to sandwiches, palpably killing time until he could decently leave. Robin emerged from the Ladies, and was instantly suborned by Bristow, who seemed eager for assistance in coping with Aunt Winifred.

‘So, how long have you and John been together?’ asked Strike.

‘A few months.’

‘You got together before Lula died, did you?’

‘He asked me out not long afterwards,’ she said.

‘He must have been in a pretty bad way, was he?’

‘He was a complete mess.’

She did not sound sympathetic, but slightly contemptuous.

‘Had he been flirting for a while?’

He expected her to refuse to answer; but he was wrong. Though she tried to pretend otherwise, there was unmistakable self-satisfaction and pride in her answer.

‘He came upstairs to see Tony. Tony was busy, so John came to wait in my office. He started talking about his sister, and he got emotional. I gave him tissues, and he ended up asking me out to dinner.’

In spite of what seemed to be lukewarm feelings for Bristow, he thought that she was proud of his overtures; they were a kind of trophy. Strike wondered whether Alison had ever, before desperate John Bristow came along, been asked out to dinner. It had been the collision of two people with an unhealthy need: I gave him tissues, and he asked me out to dinner.

The hostel worker was buttoning up his jacket. Catching Strike’s eye, he gave a farewell wave, and departed without speaking to anyone.

‘So how does the big boss feel about his secretary dating his nephew?’

‘It’s not up to Tony what I do in my private life,’ she said.

‘True enough,’ said Strike. ‘Anyway, he can’t talk about mixing business with pleasure, can he? Sleeping with Cyprian May’s wife as he is.’

Momentarily fooled by his casual tone, Alison opened her mouth to respond; then the meaning of his words hit her, and her self-assurance shattered.

‘That’s not true!’ she said fiercely, her face burning. ‘Who said that to you? It’s a lie. It’s a complete lie. It’s not true. It isn’t.’

He heard a terrified child behind the woman’s protest.

‘Really? Why did Cyprian May send you to Oxford to find Tony on the seventh of January then?’

‘That – it was only – he’d forgotten to get Tony to sign some documents, that’s all.’