‘I’ve interviewed thousands of people over the years,’ he said. ‘I’m a fount of useless information. I hope your mother isn’t going through some sort of mid-life crisis. God only knows what she might bring home next. A starving child from Malawi, for example. Didn’t Madonna do that? And she liked her so much that she went back for more?’

‘That,’ said Elizabeth, fixing him with a sharp look, ‘is exactly the kind of comment that gets you into such deep trouble.’

‘Oh, there’s no one else here,’ he said, waving her criticism aside. ‘Just you, me and a dead tortoise. It’s not as if that @TruthIsASword bastard is going to hear any of it.’

‘Still,’ replied Elizabeth, avoiding his eye, ‘you need to be more careful from now on if you want to make people like you again.’

Before he could reply, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen.

‘Oh Christ, this can’t be good. It’s my agent. Hello, Denise,’ said George cheerfully as he answered it. ‘How are you, darling?’

‘I’m wonderful, darling,’ she replied. ‘And how are you, darling?’

‘Smashing, darling. And what can I do for you? I suppose you’re calling to let me know that the BBC wants to renegotiate my contract a year early and give me a substantial salary bump?’

‘If only wishing made it so,’ she said, laughing joylessly. ‘What are you doing right now, darling?’

‘Talking to you, darling.’

‘I mean, are you at home, darling?’

‘I am, darling.’

‘And are you busy?’

‘Not especially.’

‘Fabulous. Could we meet? Shall we say Soho House in an hour?’

‘Is it good news or bad news?’

Denise laughed properly now. ‘Now, you know I don’t believe in such terms,’ she said. ‘All news is good news. Even bad news leads to new opportunities so ultimately becomes good news.’

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘So is it good news or new opportunities?’

‘Have you seen today’s Daily Mail?’

‘No, I’ve given up reading the papers.’

‘Then just meet me at twelve,’ she said. ‘Dean Street, all right? The last time I was in Greek Street, James Corden was there. Never again, I swore after that. Never again.’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘You can’t give me a little clue, though, as to whether I’m going to come away in a good mood or not?’

‘Afraid not, darling. I’ll tell you all at twelve. Until then.’

He nodded and hung up.

‘Well?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘I don’t know. She likes to deliver good news in person so she can receive my gratitude face to face. But she also likes to deliver bad news in person so she can talk me out of firing her.’

‘Something tells me that, of the two of you, she’s the one in more stable employment right now.’

THE SKI INSTRUCTOR OF VERBIER