I must have looked as confused as I felt. ‘I like grapes,’ I said, sleepily.

‘I’m sure you do.’ He smiled again. ‘There are fine grapes to be found in the markets of Tangiers. A marvellous place, Tangiers. I’m currently seeking a reliable soul to look after some business for the family firm. It occurs to me that you might benefit, when sufficiently rested, from some time in the sun. A year, perhaps two, looking after the office there. A busy office too. One could make a real difference in such a position. Good schools, should you wish it.’

I wasn’t sure if I was being exiled or offered a job. I screwed up my face, feeling myself drift away. ‘I didn’t do anything for queen or country,’ I said, my voice thick with sleep. ‘It was for my friends, my family …’

He leaned over, moving without a sound. Looked down at me as my eyes closed.

‘My dear, they are quite one and the same.’

EPILOGUE

Paolo Fergus looks up, face flushed, the final page held between forefinger and thumb. Dame Cordelia Hemlock is looking at him over the rim of her brandy glass, a little smile creating a dimple in her left cheek.

‘Cut the mustard, does it?’ she asks. ‘I’m not a professional, but I gave it as much gusto as one can summon at my age. Better than Felicity’s bumbling recordings, I hope. Did she ramble? Good God but that woman can ramble.’

Fergus doesn’t say anything. Leans over and picks up the crystal tumbler from the tray and swallows the smokey amber liquid. Closes his eyes until he can get his thoughts in a row.

‘I can’t print this,’ he says, his voice thin and reedy. ‘They’ll slap a section D on it as soon as I pitch it anywhere.’

‘You can pick the bones out of it,’ says Cordelia, shrugging. ‘Make it work. Chop out the bits where we’ve doubled up and overlapped and make it sound like we’re not a pair of daft old biddies in a muddle. There’s paperwork at Kew that back up the situation out at Belize. You can’t name names but you can tell people that we did what we did. They won’t care, not really, but you can tell them all the same.’

He sucks his cheek, thinking hard. ‘The pilot. The American vicar.’