Then voices were shouting all around and someone screamed ‘I have the shot!’ and Whitestone said ‘Take the shot!’ and the crack of gunfire tore the night, ripped it wide open, shockingly loud, one single shot that was so stretched-out and jagged it made your heart leap, and Tom Monk was falling backwards, his head twisting sideways as if suddenly and savagely punched, the top of it flying away in a clump of blood and hair and skin and bone and brain, and then he was lying very still on the scrappy piece of grass looking like what he was now – a fallen British soldier.

I moved towards the lifeless body, any hatred I had felt for him suddenly turned to a sour kind of sadness; but I felt Whitestone’s hand on my arm, making me wait, taking no more chances.

‘Enough for one night, Max,’ she said. ‘It’s almost Christmas.’

She gave the command and they let loose the dogs.

Chapter 38

38

SUNDAY MORNING.

Scout sat at the window, waiting for her mother. Across the street the great meat market of Smithfield was closed for the weekend, the crowds all gone, and the white dome of St Paul’s Cathedral rose above a scene of perfect stillness.

On TV, the MP for Hillingdon North was entering 10 Downing Street, Siri Voss one pace behind, cradling a thick file of papers. Ben King smiled shyly at the journalists who called out to him.

‘Congratulations on the promotion! A few words, Minister?’

‘The youngest Parliamentary Secretary to the Treasury in history – how does that feel?’

‘What kind of Chief Whip are you going to be, Mr King? Are you going to put it about a bit? Are you going to give them some stick?’

There was a policeman on the door. King murmured good morning to him. The policeman touched his helmet in salute. Ben King and Siri Voss disappeared inside as a spasm of pain racked my lower back.

Stan was sleeping at Scout’s feet. But as I flinched the dog stirred and stretched – downward-facing dog, then upward-facing dog – all the while watching me with those massive round eyes, as if to say you must do the stretching every day of your life, don’t you even know that?

Or maybe he just wanted some food.

In the pocket of my jeans, my phone began to vibrate. Then it was still. And then it began to vibrate again. I took it out and read the message from Anne, and I thought, there is no greater stranger than someone we used to love.

‘Angel,’ I said to Scout, with a lightness that I did not feel. ‘Your mother’s not coming today. Something came up. I’m sorry.’

Scout watched me with impassive eyes.

‘She’s very busy,’ my daughter said.