‘I can’t call it, James,’ she replied. ‘Stroke victims can make astonishing recoveries.’

‘Of course they can! And I’m quite sure he will, my dear.’ The man had clearly decided he was getting nowhere, and his demeanour changed back to one of forced jollity. ‘Let’s keep in touch,’ he added, as if she were trying to sell him something he didn’t want.

He turned to go, but Romy stopped him. ‘James, I wanted to ask you something too, which is also rather delicate.’

James’s eyebrows rose as he waited for her to go on.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but something’s come up with Michael and I wondered if … I gather you knew Nell Fleetwood.’

James’s face went still for a split second, then his cheeks coloured as only very fair-skinned people’s do: the dull brick red that looks as if it will never fade.

‘Michael told you that?’

She nodded.

‘It was a long time ago. And Honor –’

Ignoring the fact of his marriage to the charming Honor – she wasn’t here to judge ‒ Romy said, ‘It’s just Nell’s daughter, Grace …’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Christ,’ he said, the word thudding like lead into the silent kitchen. ‘He told you that, too?’

Romy nodded.

‘So what’s your question?’

What is it? She felt flustered. Hadn’t Michael already told her what happened? She went on with her task, but her hands were shaking slightly as she said, ‘What did he tell you about that night, James?’

The silence made her turn. James was looking at her warily. ‘You said you knew.’

She gave a small shrug. ‘He told me his version … I’d like to hear yours.’

James hesitated, pulling nervously at his right ear lobe. ‘I’m sure they’re the same but, OK, yes, he came round that night, in a bit of a state. He was worried, because of her age. Obviously it wouldn’t look good, if it came out – a schoolgirl and a senior barrister.’

Romy was aware of a small alarm bell going off in her head, triggered by James’s split second of hesitation. ‘But just a consensual kiss?’ she said, as nonchalantly as possible, knowing there was more and wanting to flush James out – hoping the tremor in her voice did not betray her. ‘Even given how young she was …’

James dropped his head. ‘If you could call it that.’ His voice was low and angry. ‘He shouldn’t have done it.’ When he finally looked up, he’d got his features under control and said, with his usual bland delivery, ‘I thought Grace might run to her mother. So I put the feelers out, told her I thought Michael and Grace had had a silly moment. But Nell had no idea what I was on about. And I suppose I did make light of it then, because I was nervous of the repercussions for Michael if Grace spoke up.’