At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. When John’s parents weren’t home, they made love in his bedroom. ’ ‘In a somewhat roundabout fashion, if you ask me,’ came in a mutter from her old nurse, very much in her usual style. She did not bother with the backpack despite its due tomorrow status. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. I will shed no more blood. “I have given it up,” she answered.
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