‘Off the record?’

‘Completely.’

‘All right. Here’s the thing. Just a few days ago, Cameron Fisher was in Johnny’s office. He’s in there all the time, so I didn’t think anything of it, just walked in without knocking. Cameron had his back to me and he was blocking the door so Johnny didn’t see me for a second. I heard Cameron say – at least, I think I heard him say – “When is Kendall coming across?” And then Johnny shooshed him.’

‘“When. Is. Kendall. Coming. Across?”’ I repeat. ‘Blimey!’

‘When Johnny saw me, he shouted, “Hello” to me, so loudly it shut Cameron up. Very obvious. Very deliberate.’

I ponder. Astonishing. I no longer mind her noxious cigarette smoke.

‘You think the Chancellor of the Exchequer is crossing the floor to Labour? Can that be? You must have asked Johnny.’

‘Of course I fucking did. Johnny gave me a look that meant I wasn’t supposed to go there. Very annoying.’

‘That would be a story. Right before an election. Unprecedented.’

‘We’re off the record,’ she reminds me quickly. ‘You are not to breathe this to a soul.’

‘Listen I’ve just told you something that would kill me if it came out. Of course I am not going to turn you over.’ Though I am certainly going to make discreet enquiries.

But even if Kendall was about to defect, why would Clare be the messenger? That would be an even more serious breach of Whitehall’s strictures. I don’t know what to make of this.

‘Didn’t you say Kendall was at university with your father?’ Marilyn’s animated. ‘Kendall would have trusted Clare, and she would felt a connection with him. Wouldn’t she?’

‘My dad and Kendall were hardly buddies,’ I say. But I’ve seen a different link. ‘Frankie Crowther told me in The Groucho a few days ago that it was Cameron who briefed the papers about Clare dying.’

‘Why on earth would he do that?’

‘I don’t know. But it suggests he may have been in regular contact with Kendall.’ I shake my head in frustration. So many threads in one big tangle. ‘Can you ask Cameron how he learned about Clare’s death?’

‘I’ll try. I have what you might call a complicated relationship with Cameron.’

‘Don’t we all.’

We lapse into silence. One of the things I like about Marilyn is we can talk, or sit in comfortable silence. Which for me is unusual. There are some people who make me feel nervous when I have nothing to say or share, but not Marilyn. She tolerates my retreats into my own head. But what I’m thinking about now is the long finger of ash growing on the end of her cigarette. It’s drooping and will make a mess of the white bedsheets. Just in time she taps it into the mug.