Walker knew full well that there was precious little proper strategic thinking going on in 10 Downing Street. He knew also from this morning’s telephone call with President Dillon in Washington that she knew that, too. But he had to give her credit for the way she’d flattered the PM and asked him to stand alongside the US. But again, it was all about creating the right perception for the focus groups on which so many government decisions were based. For the PM to be seen as new best friends with the charismatic new US female president would be good for his image with women voters and with the media. Tough and statesmanlike, it was just what the PM needed with all his ongoing EU issues.

Walker felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see one of the PM’s close protection team. “You’re wanted outside, Trev,” he said, signaling Walker to follow him out.

Outside the pub, even Walker had to admit that the warm, spring sun shining on the translucent green of the surrounding trees was uplifting. But that was only a momentary thought as the officer pointed out a silver Mercedes E-Class, beside which Kate Bowler, the PM’s Private Secretary, was standing. Tall and slim, with brown hair tied back, she was usually enigmatically relaxed. But today Walker could see that she was grim faced and looking positively shocked, despite making an effort to compose herself.

She strode toward him as soon as she spotted him. “I need to see the PM, Trev. He’s got to get back to Downing Street. Now.”

Normally, he would have demanded to know what was going on, but not today. He had never seen Bowler like this before and now was not the moment to aggravate her. Walker turned and went back into the pub. He sidled up behind the PM’s chair.

“Sorry to interrupt, boss,” he muttered, “Kate’s outside. She says you’ve got to get straight back to Number Ten. Something important has come up.”

“Can’t it wait, Trev?” the PM said irritably. “Our food hasn’t arrived yet.”

“No, boss. You need to speak to her now.” Walker was not putting up with any argument.

The PM apologized to his wife, kissed her goodbye and ruffled his children’s hair, then reluctantly followed Walker into the Russell Arms car park.

“Couldn’t it wait, Kate? I was enjoying a brief down moment with my family,” the PM said sulkily.

Bowler was firm. “You need to get in, Prime Minister. I’ll brief you on the way to Downing Street.”