And what would it look like, a murder of the soul?

Something like this, maybe?

Yes, something like this.

‘You should have asked me first,’ Dash said. He jumped to his feet, paced the room.

‘You would have said no,’ said Miranda.

‘Exactly,’ said Dash. ‘I’ve looked up the Burton-Smiths. His mother’s a magistrate, for Christ’s sake. If they mention even a word of it to her, the mother will have to report you.’

‘The neighbour thought Emily was pregnant,’ said Miranda. ‘If the neighbour thinks that, everyone will think that. They obviously wanted to avoid the questions from all the chatty friends. Be the perfect family. They’re not going to tell anyone about the surrogacy.’

‘Is this because of Salama?’ Dash turned to Casey. ‘I should have taken you off this job, after that. I knew it.’

‘No.’ Casey’s throat filled. ‘I am fine.’

‘You’re not,’ said Dash. ‘I’ve been watching you, Casey. You look as if you’re seeing ghosts.’

Casey stared at him, eyes hard. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘And you said’ – Dash turned to Miranda – ‘that you still need someone to go out there with Casey.’

‘I want Ed to go with her,’ Miranda said. ‘But we can think of someone else if he can’t make it.’

‘How about Luke?’ said Casey hopefully. ‘He knows the area from working out of Delhi. And he’s good at all that stuff. Done it before.’

‘Too well known in Dhaka as the Post’s man,’ said Miranda. ‘Luke could have been identified to anyone during a trip to Bangladesh.’

It was why Casey avoided Parliament. Because you never knew who was whispering in a corner, and pointing like a curse.

‘I’d be happier if it were Ed going out with you,’ said Dash. ‘There’s a huge amount of organised crime in Bangladesh. It’s vicious. You can’t know what you’re going to be walking into. Ed’s pretty tough.’

They all heard it in his voice. Dash was planning the journey.

He was waiting for her under the bridge. Casey watched him as he idled through the second-hand books. He paused at one, an old hardback about Churchill. Leafed through it, glanced about – that quick glimpse around, always – and caught sight of her.

‘Hello,’ she said.

Ed looked at her, eyes narrowed, and for a second, she thought that he might walk away. But he smiled, and stepped towards her. Kissed her, cheek to cheek for the briefest of moments. She almost flinched away, and almost turned towards him, and fought for a second to smile.

‘Hello, Casey.’

He was wearing an old waxed jacket, zipped up, and faded jeans. And the solid boots that they all wear, the former military men, slightly battered, neatly tied. Despite the cold spring, his face was tanned and he looked older, with lines round his eyes from squinting under the sun.