The Commissioner had turned up on TV to state categorically that terrorism was not involved and in this he was backed up by Transport for London and the Home Office. It was strongly hinted that a water leak had undermined the platform and caused a localised collapse. The damage was confined to the platform and a resumption of train services was expected in time for the Boxing Day sales.

There was a noticeable absence of CCTV footage or even stuff caught on phone cameras. I discovered later that whatever my friend the Earthbender had done it had fried every chip within ten metres and degraded cameras and phones out to another twenty.

‘Congratulations,’ said Lesley. ‘After this, nobody will even remember the Covent Garden fire.’

‘Do I get a name check?’ I asked.

‘No, amazingly enough,’ said Lesley. ‘Because as they were digging you out a heavily pregnant woman went into labour and gave birth in the casualty triage point practically in front of the cameras.’

‘I’ll bet that got their attention,’ I said.

‘Gets better,’ said Lesley. ‘She had twins.’

That couldn’t possibly be a deliberate distraction by Nightingale or whoever it was who was supposed to arrange these things. I mean, you’d have to have teams of pregnant women on standby – it just wasn’t practical. Damn, but the newspaper editors must be banging their heads on their desks trying to cram the words ‘miracle’ and ‘tot’ into their headlines.

‘My money’s on Christmas Miracle Twins,’ I said.

‘XMAS TWIN TOTS BIRTH JOY,’ said Lesley. ‘The E. coli scare got knocked all the way back to page four.’

‘Has anyone else visited?’ I asked. Seawoll and Stephanopoulos were not going to be happy.

‘Nightingale turned up,’ she said. ‘He was hoping to shout at you a bit to show his affection in a gruff manly and safely non-gay way but you were asleep so he just sort of milled around for a while and then off he went.’

‘So,’ I said. ‘How was your end of the operation?’

‘Unlike some people,’ she said. ‘I devoted my time to some actual police work.’

‘Somebody has to do it,’ I said.

Lesley gave me a long look. Sometimes I can tell what she’s thinking even with the mask on. But sometimes I can’t.

‘They’re all linked,’ said Lesley. ‘The Beales, Gallaghers and Nolans. Want to guess how?’

‘The Unbreakable Empire Pottery?’ I asked.

‘Not the Nolans,’ said Lesley, snagging a satsuma from a bowl by my bed. ‘At least not to start with – they came later. The business was started in 1865 by Eugene Beale, Patrick Gallagher and Matthew Carroll – spot the names.’

‘And that’s significant because they’re such uncommon names,’ I said.

Lesley ignored me.