‘That’s where the Queen lives.’ The taxi was an extravagance, but Corinne had brought so much luggage that he didn’t see how they could lug it all through the underground and then along the streets from Tower Hill to Fenchurch Street. And besides, Corinne was still feeling the after-effects of being seasick during the Channel crossing. Corinne followed his gaze. ‘Oh, yes. It’s very nice.’ ‘And there are the guards, see? In their red jackets and busby hats.’ Unbidden into his mind came the children’s rhyme about changing the guard at Buckingham Palace. With it came the memory of the last time he had shown someone the Palace. Scarlett had been absolutely thrilled to see it. He’d quoted the first line of the poem to her. Scarlett had laughed and come right back with the next line. Of course, Corinne couldn’t be expected to know that. She had been brought up on Babar the Elephant, not Christopher Robin. ‘Now we’re going down The Mall,’ he told her. ‘Mmm—nice, but it is not as grand as the Champs Elysée.’ It was a pity the weather was so bad.
