‘It was appallingly inconsiderate,’ said Lady Gillett, apparently by way of greeting. ‘Eleven at night. That’s the time they arrived, hammering at the door. The maid had gone home and I had to answer it myself, and if you must know, I am still frightfully, frightfully cross about the whole thing. If I hadn’t had sharp words, they would have left everything on the doorstep. On the doorstep! And I have people coming round for luncheon, including a very senior member of the Ways and Means Committee. As it is, they’ve left the lawn looking like the paddock at Epsom and the entire side-path is blocked. So you’ll understand why I am so absolutely furious, and if you don’t remove every single item immediately, I shall be forced to ring the authorities. Do you understand?’

‘No,’ said Noel.

Lady Gillett dragged her gaze from Vee.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘We haven’t the slightest idea what you mean. Who are the “they” you are talking about?’

‘Americans!’ she said, as if it were obvious. ‘In a jeep! They had already unloaded everything by the time I opened the door, and refused to take it away again, despite the fact they’d delivered it to the wrong person. Here!’ She took a folded envelope out of her trouser pocket and thrust it at Vee. ‘This morning I asked my maid who on earth “Mrs Overs” was, and she told me that you were the woman who runs the boarding-house at the end of the road, and of course those stupid men had confused Greenbanks with Green Shutters.’

‘Now, hang on—’ began Vee, but Noel had already taken a step forward, his chin raised, his voice as deep as Vee had ever heard it.

‘My aunt is not a “woman who runs a boarding-house”,’ he said, ‘but someone who has spent the last four years feeding and accommodating essential war-workers, rather than sitting on her arse being waited on by the only remaining servant in Hampstead. I have heard snobbery defined as the pride of those who are not sure of their position, and your own is clearly balanced on the edge of the abyss. Where are the goods in question?’

Since last she’d spoken, Lady Gillett appeared to have been shot and stuffed, but her eyes flickered to the right, and Noel squelched across the lawn and looked around the corner of the house. ‘Bloody hell!’ he said, involuntarily, and heard the front door shut sharply.

There were seven crates, each nailed shut, each stamped with ‘US ARMY PROPERTY’. He lifted one, and found it extraordinarily heavy.

‘Mar!’ called Noel. When she didn’t reply, he looked round the corner to see her reading the letter.

‘It’s from Mario,’ she said, her voice airy with relief. ‘He says he’s sorry and he—’

‘Sorry about what?’

‘For leaving me in the lurch in Brighton. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t want to listen. There were no trains and he got arrested and I had to find my own way back and …’ She scanned the few remaining lines: ‘“So, Toots, they’ve put me in the guardhouse till we leave the country, but the boys are dropping off a few gewgaws from the stores. Thanks a million for looking after Mrs O’Mahoney’s Baby Boy. Your pal always, Mario xxxx.”