There was a knock at the door. Her first thought was that it must be Doris come to do the cleaning, but she had a key of her own. Anyway, it was her day off. So if it wasn’t her, who else would be calling on her? Had she forgotten about an appointment with a would-be nanny? She looked out of the window and her blood ran cold. Philip Eaton was there.

Why would Philip Eaton be calling on her – and who was that man with him?

Only one thought came to mind: it was bad news. Something had happened to Tom. She opened the door. ‘Yes, Philip?’ She couldn’t hide the tension in her voice.

‘Ah, Lydia, how are you?’

‘What’s happened? Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’

‘To Tom? Good Lord, nothing. He’s fine, drinking the German bars dry of beer no doubt.’ Then, perhaps fearing he had overstepped the mark, ‘And missing you and the boy dreadfully, of course. I spoke to him not so long ago and all was well.’

She closed her eyes with a sigh of relief. ‘Damn you, Philip, you should have called ahead. Everyone knows what the knock on the door means.’

‘The war’s over, Lydia – but yes, of course I should have called ahead. Forgive me.’

‘Well, you’d better come in.’ She held the door wide for him and the stranger at his side. Once inside the door, Eaton introduced them.

‘This is Sergei Borisov.’

‘How do you do,’ she said, sizing up the bald stranger with a bulging belly beneath a brand-new sports jacket that really didn’t suit him, and a loud yellow and blue striped tie that looked even worse.

Sergei Borisov, the former Boris Minsky, gave her a charming smile. ‘I am very well, thank you, Mrs Wilde.’ He bowed his head graciously as he shook hands. ‘It is my very great honour and pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear lady.’

‘Well, I’m sure I’m pleased to meet you, too,’ she said, withdrawing her hand from his. She turned to Eaton. ‘I suppose you’ll eventually tell me why you’re both here, but in the meantime, perhaps you’d like a cup of tea?’

‘Coffee,’ Eaton said, handing her a large bag of beans. ‘Fresh off the boat from Kenya. And there’s more in the car, along with a peach, a bar of chocolate for the boy, a bottle of Scotch for you and a whole hamper of unobtainable foodstuffs for the family.’

Lydia knew she was being softened up, but she happily accepted the coffee and took them through to the kitchen where she sat her visitors down and began to grind the beans. The aroma was exquisite.

‘And where is young Johnny today?’