Not much more than twenty years ago, the leader of the Liberal party hired a hitman to murder his gay lover, to avoid exposure. And another half century further back, there was Victor Grayson, who knew too much about how the Prime Minister, David Lloyd George, sold honours: he vanished forever. We like to imagine there are certain proprieties in British politics, that our lot would never wield an ice pick or a poisoned umbrella. But it would be absurd to suggest we have fewer than our fair share of jealous or vengeful maniacs.

I think back to Kendall at Clare’s funeral, his reaction when I mentioned Thomas Hardy having an affair with his cousin. No wonder. How callous must he be to come to the funeral after what he’d done? Was he there to cover his tracks, or did he enjoy humiliating us?

I need to talk this over with someone, anyone. Who can I call? I can’t inflict this on Mum and Dad – Charles hasn’t even told them Clare was pregnant. The person I trust most is Jess, but I worry this will compromise our professional relationship. I can’t bring myself to confide in her, at least not yet.

I have only one option, even though it makes me uneasy – because our relationship is supposed to be ‘light’. Marilyn, who already knows about the unborn child. It crosses my mind she will feel conflicted if I tell her all my fears about Kendall – and I am not sure I can trust her to keep them to herself, not to find a way to exploit them for the benefit of her boss. But my life is a study in conflicts of interest, of boundaries crossed, of decency trampled.

Marilyn answers straight away. ‘The bad penny. I was about to call you.’

‘I need to see you.’

She laughs. ‘That’s straight to the point. We’re days from the election and all you can think about is sex in the afternoon?’

‘It’s not that.’ I hesitate. ‘I’ve got a problem.’

She seems to sense the hurt in my voice. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I need to talk.’

‘About Clare?’ She is never slow on the uptake.

‘Yup. And Kendall.’ Where to even begin? ‘It’s a mess.’

‘You sound awful.’ She pauses. ‘Listen, I’m with Johnny right now, but I’ll have a few minutes in about half an hour. Call me back then.’

‘Is it possible to see you?’ I push. It is way too risky to discuss this on the phone. Eavesdropping on a mobile phone conversation is not difficult with the right kit. And I assume whoever would feel threatened by my enquiries would have no problem hiring people with access to that kit.

‘I haven’t got time . . .’

‘It’s just to talk. I’ll keep my hands in my pockets. Promise. Please. It won’t need more than a few minutes.’

She sighs.