The rumble of Constitution Hill reached her ears as she went through Green Park – and bumped straight into Tommy.

‘I’m so sorry,’ they both said at once, before realizing who they were each speaking to.

‘Oh, Miss Crawford.’

‘Tommy.’

‘On your way to the Palace as well?’

‘Yes.’

‘We may as well walk together.’

They walked in silence for some moments. Tommy was remembering how he had tried to warn her against marrying the Buthlay chap. Crawfie, meanwhile, was thinking of the anger she still felt, and the unsettling worry nagging at her that maybe she should have listened.

She tried to push the thought away. Yes, perhaps George drank a little too much, and his illness made him restless and irritable, but surely they were just going through a difficult patch. She loved George, and he loved her.

‘I trust married life is working well for you,’ Tommy said.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she returned with feigned joie de vivre. ‘And how is Lady Lascelles?’

‘Very well.’

‘Good.’

On the edge of the park, they crossed the road to the Palace and its gates.

The policeman nodded. ‘Morning sir, ma’am.’

‘Good morning, constable.’

‘Lovely day.’

‘Indeed, sir, ma’am.’

They continued walking. As they reached the doors, Tommy turned to her suddenly. ‘Miss Crawford, I regret the things I said at our last meeting. Please accept my apology. It was wrong of me to and none of my business. And I am happy to see that I was wrong.’

Crawfie was startled. She looked at her shoes, then at the sky and finally at Tommy. ‘It was terrible of you. Hurtful and horrid. But I accept your apology.’

‘Thank you.’ He smiled with pained relief. ‘Perhaps I could take you to lunch to make it up to you?’

‘When?’

‘Today?’

She hesitated, then smiled. ‘Thank you. I should like that very much.’

As it was such a beautiful day, Tommy suggested that they eat at the small café by the Serpentine.

‘We can watch the ducks,’ he said, ‘and I do so like to hear the birds singing.’

A table came free just as they arrived, with a good view of the boating lake while having the benefit of a little shade. They sat down opposite one another.

‘I love eating outside,’ Crawfie told him. ‘I always feel as if I am on holiday.’

‘I know what you mean.’

The waitress brought them the menu: soup, omelettes, sandwiches or Cheddar ploughman’s.

‘What will you have, Crawfie?’

‘I would like the ploughman’s.’

Tommy turned to the waitress. ‘Two ploughman’s and I think a small jug of beer for us to share?’ He raised his eyebrows at Crawfie for her confirmation.

‘Perfect,’ she replied.

Crawfie had been a little apprehensive about their lunch together, but the conversation was easy and light between them. The awkwardness and upset of the last few months had dissipated. It was very good to see him again. They were unlikely friends but true friends, platonic in every sense.