I scan the front page of the FC that I’ve brought with me. The splash is a story by Jess about Labour’s plans to set up a new regulator for the City. I have a slight pang of conscience that she is bailing me out, doing my job. And then, to my genuine amazement, the door to the carriage wooshes open and there she is, grinning.

‘Jess! What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I couldn’t let you jump out of the plane without a parachute all by yourself.’

‘But you can’t come to the interview!’

‘I thought you might want company on the way.’

I don’t say anything, except a mumbled thank you. If I open my mouth, I might blub. She sits down opposite me, leans across the table and squeezes my hand.

‘No need to thank me. If you fuck up, and the FC sacks you, I’ll be bored out of my skull. And we can’t have that, can we? So when are you going to confront him?’

*

Gavin told me Kendall had a red box to get through – documents to read, letters to sign. Could I hang on forty-five minutes or so before wandering down the train to find him, he asked. I wait until the train is just outside Oxford before I get up to find the Chancellor.

Jess gives me an anxious look. I can see she is desperate to make a final attempt to change my mind, but she presumably guesses it’s pointless.

‘Don’t lose your temper,’ is all she says.

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Seriously. Don’t lose your rag.’

I head to the back of the train. On a Thursday morning, it’s almost empty. In the last carriage there’s only one table occupied, at the far end. Kendall stands to greet me.

‘Gil.’

‘Chancellor.’ He offers me his hand and, despite everything I shake it. ‘Good of you to make time for me.’

‘No photographer?’ He sounds disappointed.

‘He’s meeting us at Evesham.’ The lie trips smoothly off my tongue. I haven’t told Mary Nichols or Lorimer I’m doing this interview, and I certainly didn’t bother to book a snapper. By the time I’ve grilled him, I very much doubt he’ll want to be posing for pictures.

I’d assumed that without Gavin, he’d be on his own. His special advisers have been seconded to Conservative Central Office to help with the campaign; and because it’s election time, and this is supposed to be a political interview, there is no civil service minder from the Treasury. But there is a young woman, probably early twenties, sitting opposite him.

‘Gil, Elaine. Elaine, Gil,’ Kendall introduces us. ‘Elaine is my constituency secretary.’