Wavery’s office was the smaller room. There was a desk, a swivel chair covered in red hessian and, beneath a window he had not yet been able to open, a bookcase. Asunción had filled part of one shelf with In Public, In Private: Their Royal Highnesses and an old four-volume set of the London telephone directory. The room, overlooking Calle Camoes, smelled of its new wheat-coloured carpet.

Wavery arranged his towel and swimming trunks on the radiator. Out of habit he grappled unavailingly with the window, and sat down. Before Asunción arrived he went through the mail.

Abyla was too minor a post to merit the attention of a Queen’s Messenger. Correspondence was diverted instead to Gibraltar. Once a week a man from the Convent crossed the Straits and deposited a small white sack in the downstairs mailbox. He was always gone by the time Wavery arrived for work.

Wavery opened the sack.

A brown envelope from his brother-in-law enclosed Wavery’s passport and a note from Hoyter regretting the “matter of the pages” – these appeared to have been ripped out. Hoyter had snipped off the top corner. “I advise you to apply for a new passport as soon as conveniently possible. You might recall the temporary one I was able to supply you with last week is valid for three months only.” There was still no sign of Wavery’s missing jacket, most likely to be in some hidey-hole on Middle Hill. But Wavery would be pleased to learn that Johnnie had been despatched safely.

The Governor wrote:

Dear Thomas,

I am sorry I was unable to manage lunch last week. Edwina told me about your skirmish on Middle Hill. Rotten luck. Please accept my congratulations on your appointment. I know I can count on your best skills to help make the Royal Visit a success and I hope you enjoy Abyla.

After discussing the matter with Edwina I think in the circumstances it would be better next time you visit Gibraltar you make your own arrangements.

Yours ever,

Lawrence.

A volcanic rage rose in Wavery. He wrote at once in his own fluent hand.

Dear Larry,

What a crapulous, pompous toad you are. Nothing would induce me to cross your threshold again. Please do me the same courtesy. Never come anywhere near Abyla for as long as I am here. Penny, were she with me – and wish to God she were – would, I have not an iota of doubt, support me in rejecting in these terms your rudeness, your discourtesy and your insufficient humanity.

Yours sincerely,

Thomas

PS Do not acknowledge.

Purged, he reverted to the diplomatic bag. Four envelopes marked OHMS. A letter from Lima: Paracas, wrote Wavery’s successor, had been given to the cook, who had renamed him Laurenço. The situation remained critical. One evening in October a large bomb had exploded near the residence. HE’s geese had been gone for more than a week. A letter from the Foreign Office: advising Wavery of an Inspector’s visit in January. Abyla was a new post. A visit was required to ascertain the level off allowances. A letter from the Foreign Office: informing Wavery of what he already knew from OED: he should expect delivery of his luggage by Christmas. And finally, a circular, distribution all posts, reminding officers of August’s circular alerting officers to the dangers posed by OED-supplied aluminium kitchen equipment. The warning not to stew fruit still applied.