‘Don’t fret,’ I muttered, rubbing at my arms. ‘And don’t ask me what’s going on because I’ve no blasted idea.’

He got himself to his knees. Readjusted himself then hauled himself upright. He cleared the space between us and put his hand out, squeezing my arm. ‘You’ve been crying,’ he said, accusingly. ‘Are you hurting?’

‘Bumps and bruises,’ I muttered, being as cold with him as I knew how to be. ‘I went a right clatter down the back stairs.’

He winced again, memories seeming to pop behind his eyes. ‘Cordelia’s,’ he said, at last. ‘Two big blokes. Punch like a kick from a donkey on one of them.’

I nodded. ‘Sera and her brother have got some information for some important people. They’ve come a long way to tell them about the bad things happening in their country. I think we just got in the way, so as long as we don’t upset anybody we’ll probably be grand.’

He didn’t look convinced. Looked around him, getting a feel for our surroundings. ‘Maid’s quarters, is it?’ he asked, curtly. ‘By the back stairs?’

‘You’ll know it, I shouldn’t wonder,’ I said nastily. ‘No doubt there isn’t a room here at her majesty’s that you don’t know like the back of your hand.’

He was gazing up at the hole in the roof. Reached past me and looked inside the medicine cupboard. There was a dirty mug and an empty bottle of talcum powder. He squatted down, grimacing, and ran his hand up and down the porcelain under the sink.

‘Did you hear me?’ I asked, huddling into my coat. ‘Want me to make it rhyme for you, is that how to get your attention?’

He stopped what he was doing. Straightened up. There was sweat running down his face and the whites of his eyes were the yellow of a smoker’s teeth. But he gave me his full attention.

‘You saw the poems,’ he said, without emotion. He shook his head. ‘I asked you not to look.’

‘Aye well, I did look. Very lovely, I’m sure, though of course I’m not one to judge. That’s probably something for you and Cordelia to chat about, once you’ve finished doing whatever else you do.’

He jerked his head back like I’d hit him. ‘What else we’ve been doing? What does that mean?’

‘I saw the inscription,’ I hissed. ‘God, I knew she had an eye for a bit of rough but I thought she had some bloody standards. Thought she cared more about me than this! John Goose, I swear, this is going to kill me. I can feel it, right now, getting bigger – I can feel my heart ready to bloody pop!’