‘Well, there’s chatter in the City that our – your – pension fund is in trouble.’ I’m improvising. Again. Jess tells me there’s no evidence there’s any kind of a hole in the Media Corp fund, but although I trust her, I’ve also learned to go with my intuitions because sometimes they turn out to be deductive leaps. ‘If there’s a big deficit, the tax on dividends would be a pain.’

Breitner is still. And then, very suddenly, he slams his fist on the desk. ‘That is a crock of shit!’ he says. ‘If you value your career, you won’t repeat it.’ His South African accent is stronger in his rage; each syllable is stressed. ‘Do you hear what I am saying? Do I look like a man on the brink of ruin?’

He’s wearing a watch worth more than my salary in a room that cost more to furnish than I will earn in my life. But I didn’t say anything about him facing ruin. Why jump to that conclusion?

Streatham intervenes, perhaps sensing that Breitner is revealing too much. ‘Aren’t we here to talk about politics?’ he says. ‘Shall we get back to that?’ There is a brief silence. It takes all my willpower not to drink the whisky. I try not to tremble.

‘The most important thing,’ I say haltingly, ‘is that Todd knows Labour can’t win unless the party is seen to be in the centre of politics. I don’t see that as a convenient pose, to be dropped when Johnny’s in Number 10. It’s his credo, his guiding star, such as he has one.’

‘It’s “Johnny”, is it?’ says Streatham. ‘Nice and cosy.’

I redden. ‘It’s “Johnny” to everyone. That’s his style.’

Streatham laughs. ‘I’m just winding you up, sonny. I wasn’t born yesterday. Todd is a phoney who needs everyone to be his friend.’

Breitner perks up. ‘Wanting to make friends isn’t such a bad thing, Jock. But is Mr Streatham right? Does Todd need to be loved?’

I am intrigued by Breitner’s inquiry. ‘Maybe. He’s exceptionally charming. And he’s not ideological in the old Labour sense of despising people because they went to Eton or own vast tracts of Hampshire, or because they happen to be the proprietor of right-leaning newspapers.’

‘We own papers of all persuasions and none,’ Breitner says disingenuously. ‘That’s our prerogative. But are you telling me he has no convictions?’

‘I think he has one, or at least one that matters: he believes there is no point in being in politics unless you win power, unless you are in government. He sees opposition as fatuous, and he will do more or less anything to escape it.’