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time for the last session of the fair.
    Business around the stalls was even more brisk than it had been the day before, and there were even more pre-schools playing in front of the church. But I was in a sunnier mood so that was fine. The salesman from Miles’s winery tried to quiz me about the owner’s view of his performance, but I gave him no more than an encouraging smile. I wanted to speak to my brother-in-law, to make things as official as they were going to be before I started to act on his behalf.
    Tom and I knew most of the people there so we spent a happy couple of hours schmoozing the crowd, me sipping, him sniffing. Shirley and her new beau were in evidence again, getting full value for their tickets.
    Before we’d left for the beach I’d done one thing. My time in the ambassadorial thing had given me a few contacts in the Foreign Office. I called the best of them, a man named John Dale, on his mobile, and ran the name Patterson Cowling past him. His response had been immediate. ‘Never heard of him. One of ours, you say?’
    ‘I don’t, he does. He told me he spent most of his career in your set-up. Fairly senior at the end, but I couldn’t wheedle any more out of him.’
    ‘Is he giving you cause for concern?’
    ‘No, but if my eventful life has taught me anything it’s never to take anyone at face value. My friend’s involved with him, so if there’s anything she should know . . .’
    ‘I’ll check, soon as I can, and get back to you.’
    Fortunately I was some distance away from the man under discussion when the opening bars of ‘Born to Run’ sounded in my pocket. I took out my mobile, apologised to Alex Guinart and his wife, to whom I’d been chatting, and took a few steps away from the throng.
    ‘Primavera?’
    ‘Of course, John.’ I was surprised. Although I knew him well enough to have called him on a Sunday, I hadn’t expected a result for a couple of days, at best.
    ‘Can’t be too careful. Are you alone? There’s a lot of background noise.’
    ‘I can’t be overheard and anyway, most of the people making it don’t speak English.’
    ‘That’s good, because this conversation will never have happened.’
    My eyebrows rose, my forehead ridged. ‘Oh yes?’
    ‘Definitely. I asked a couple of quick questions about your new friend. Wow! I’m not so high up the ladder that I can’t still get my arse kicked, and it didn’t take long for it to happen. I’ve been instructed to tell you to stop asking questions about Mr Cowling, and to take him at face value, as a retired civil servant.’
    I reached a very quick conclusion. ‘Oh hell,’ I moaned, ‘you’re not saying he’s a fucking spook, are you? I don’t like those people.’ That was very true; about three years before I’d had real trouble with an MI5 woman, in something that a renegade cousin of mine dragged me into. I’d sorted it out, and her, but I hadn’t forgotten her. If she had anything to do with Mr C . . .
    ‘Primavera,’ John cut in, ‘I’m not saying anything, and neither are you. Understood? If this man gets the faintest notion that you know about his background, there could be hell to pay, for me, personally.’
    ‘But he seems like such a nice guy.’
Yes
, I thought, as the banality escaped,
and Eva Braun loved Hitler
.
    ‘I’m sure he is. They’re not all licensed to kill, you know; most of them are linguists, or IT experts, or graduates who had no clear career plan when they left university.’
    ‘Fine, but what about Patterson?’
    ‘I don’t know about him!’ He was beginning to sound exasperated. ‘The person who gave me my orders isn’t one to be cross-examined.’
    ‘Okay,’ I said, to mollify him. ‘Thanks for that. Who were we talking about again? I’ve forgotten his name already.’
    ‘Good. And not a hint to him, remember.’
    ‘Promise.’
    ‘You’ll be held to it, be sure.’ He paused. ‘Hey, about your resignation: are you firm on that? The people in the