Pleased with the distinction of serving the Prime Minister, the waiter rattled off the name of each dish: beluga Malossol caviar, oysters Malpeque, pate maison, lobster aspic, Winnipeg smoked gold-eye, foie gras Mignonette, cold roast prime ribs, galantine of capon, hickory-smoked turkey, Virginia ham.

'Thank you,' Howden said. 'Just give me a little beef, well done, and some salad.'

As the man's face fell, Margaret whispered, 'Jamie!' and the Prime Minister added hastily, 'And also some of whatever it was my wife was recommending.'

As they turned from the table the naval aide reappeared. 'Excuse me, sir. His Excellency's compliments, and Miss Freedeman is telephoning you.'

Howden put down his untouched plate. 'Very well.'

'Must you go now, Jamie?' There was annoyance in Margaret's tone.

He nodded. 'Milly wouldn't call if it could wait.'

'The call is put through to the library, sir.' After bowing to Margaret the aide preceded him.

A few minutes later: 'Milly,' he said into the phone, 'I made a promise that this would be important.'

His personal secretary's soft contralto voice answered, 'It is, I think.'

Sometimes he liked to talk just for the sake of hearing Milly speak. He asked, 'Where are you?'

'At the office; I came back. Brian is here with me. That's why I called.'

He had an irrational flash of jealousy at the thought of Milly Freedeman alone with someone else… Milly who had shared with him, years before, the liaison he had remembered with a trace of guilt tonight. At the time their affair had been passionate and all-consuming, but when it ended, as he had known from the beginning it must, both had resumed their separate lives as if closing and locking a door between two rooms which continued to adjoin. Neither had ever spoken of that singular, special time again. But occasionally, as at this moment, the sight or sound of Milly could thrill him anew, as if he were once again young and eager, the years falling away… But afterwards, always, nervousness would supervene: the nervousness of one who – in public life – could not afford to have the chink in his armour penetrated.