Todd puts on a tight smile, which is supposed to look solicitous. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘That’s of no interest to you.’

Todd lowers his eyes to show he understands. ‘Clare had a lot on her mind,’ he says. ‘We all get a bit absent-minded when we are under pressure.’

It’s banal but it nettles. You didn’t know my sister. The more she was under pressure, the more brilliantly she performed. Kendall obviously wanted her out of the way, got her drunk and then hid her helmet, before waving her off to her bicycle.

I have to hide my anger. I need to know what Todd knows.

‘When Clare briefed you on the plan to tax pensions, did she tell you anything about why Kendall dropped it?’

Todd looks at his shoes. Is he summoning up a memory or trying to hide something? ‘Even when Clare was breaking the rules she was proper. She hinted someone had leaned on Kendall and that he is a pathetically weak man. But there were no names or pack drill.’

Clare, why did you sleep with that creep? Why?

Todd seems to read my mind. ‘They’re terrible people, some of these Tories,’ he says. ‘We have to get them out.’

I would gladly see Keith Kendall sent into oblivion. But I am unhappy about the ‘we’. I’m not on Todd’s team. I hate the way he assumes he can co-opt everyone he meets. Though perhaps my unease is with myself, for secretly hoping he isn’t too good to be true, that it isn’t all spin, that maybe he is someone in politics I can trust and respect. My cynicism – or, as I like to think of it, my impartiality – is what keeps me going.

A navy Rover saloon pulls up on the street behind us. Marilyn spots it and nods at Todd, who clasps my hand with both of his. ‘Keep in touch, Gil. I’ve got to head back to the Commons. Shadow cabinet.’

The security officers have glided over. One gets in the front seat, while the other holds the door open. It’s unusual for a Leader of the Opposition to have security, but Todd’s brother Crispin was, of course, a controversial figure in the British army, posted to Northern Ireland during The Troubles.

‘Are you heading that way?’ says Todd. ‘Can I offer you a lift?’

Marilyn pre-empts me. ‘You’re just two minutes’ walk from your office, aren’t you, Gil?’

It’s actually around fifteen minutes, but I take the hint. ‘That’s kind, Johnny, but the walk will do me good.’

‘That may be better,’ he says. ‘We wouldn’t want rumours about how close we are, would we?’

Who is the ‘we’, this time? Me and him? Me and Marilyn?