benign tone that he’s about to tell me we’ve got the Treasury’s green light for Rosebud, information that could perfectly well have waited till Monday. But we haven’t:
‘No, not strictly in yet, I’m afraid, Nat. Any minute now, no doubt.’
Not strictly? What does that mean? Like not strictly pregnant? But this isn’t why he called.
‘Nat’ – this recently developed Nat at the start of every other sentence, summoning me to arms – ‘can I possibly prevail on you for an enormous favour? Are you by any chance free tomorrow? I know Mondays are always tricky, but just this once?’
‘To do what?’
‘Slip down to Northwood for me. Multinational headquarters. Have you been there before?’
‘No.’
‘Well, now’s your once-in-a-lifetime chance. Our German friends have acquired a hot new live source on Moscow’s hybrid warfare programme. They’ve put together an audience of NATO professionals. I thought it was just up your street.’
‘You want me to contribute or what?’
‘No, no, no. Far better not. The wrong climate entirely. It’s strictly pan-European so the British voice will not be well received. The good news is, I’ve authorized a car for you. Grade one, chauffeur-driven. He’ll take you there, wait for however long it lasts, and drive you home to Battersea afterwards.’
‘This is Russia department stuff, Dom,’ I protest irritably, ‘not London General. And certainly not the Haven, for Christ’s sake. That’s like sending the help.’
‘Nat. Guy Brammel has seen the material and assured me personally that Russia department does not see a role for itself at the meeting. Which means in effect you’ll be representing not only London General but Russia department in one fell swoop. I thought you’d like that. It’s a double honour.’
It’s not an honour at all; it’s a bloody bore. Nevertheless, like it or not, I am Dom’s to command, and there comes a point.
‘All right, Dom. Don’t bother about a car. I’ll take my own. I presume they provide parking in Northwood?’
‘Utter nonsense, Nat! I insist. This is a class European gathering. The Office must show the flag. I made the point very strongly to the transport pool.’
I go back to the kitchen. Prue is sitting at the table with her glasses on, reading the Guardian while she waits for our soufflé to rise.
*
It’s Monday evening at last, it’s badminton night with Ed, it’s our benefit foursome for his sister Laura, which I have to say in my own way I’m rather looking forward to. I have spent a dismal day incarcerated in an underground fortress in Northwood pretending to listen to a string of German statistics. Between sessions I have stood like a flunky at the buffet table apologizing for Brexit to an assortment of European intelligence professionals. Having been deprived of my mobile phone on arrival, it’s not till I’m riding home in my chauffeur-driven limousine in pelting rain that I am able to call Viv – Dom himself being ‘unavailable’, a new trend – to be told that the Treasury sub-committee’s decision on Rosebud is ‘temporarily on hold’. In the normal way, I wouldn’t have been unduly bothered, but Dom’s ‘not strictly in yet’ won’t go away.
It’s rush hour in the rain, and there’s a hold-up at Battersea Bridge. I tell the driver to take me straight to the Athleticus. We pull up in time to see Florence, shrouded in a plastic cape, disappearing up the porch steps.
I need to log carefully what happened from now on.
*
I leap out of the Office limousine and am about to yell after Florence when I remember that in the flurry of fixing our foursome she and I failed to agree our cover stories. Who were we, how did we meet and how did we happen to be in the same room when Ed rang? All to resolve, so grab a moment as soon as we can.
Ed and Laura are waiting for us in the lobby, Ed is grinning broadly in an antiquated oilskin coat and shallow hat that I attribute to his nautical father. Laura is hiding behind his skirts and tugging at his leg, not willing to come out. She is small and sturdy with a cap of frizzy brown hair, a radiant smile and a blue dirndl dress. I am still deciding how to greet her – stand back and wave cheerfully or reach round Ed’s body to shake her hand – when Florence bounces up to her with ‘Wow, Laura, love the dress! Is it new?’ at which Laura beams and says ‘Ed bought it. In Germany’ –