I heard nothing more about Paul Huntingford’s assignment. The row over Dr Newell rumbled on. But no charge had been made against him. Patrick appeared on television from time to time, holding the government’s line that there had been a miscommunication and breach in security, which it was investigating. Every time I saw him I felt sad. Had he ever felt anything for me? How big a fool had I been? Where was the man I had loved? Had he ever been there at all? Why did I still love him, and fear him, and feel angry towards him, all at the same time? Despite everything, I still wanted him, and I did not like myself for wanting him. One morning Milo appeared at my desk, saying, “Get over to Hampstead and talk to Ismene Vale. Your appointment’s at 10:30. Simon will brief you. And this time, don’t bugger it up.” Milo headed towards the Editor’s office for the morning news conference. Simon was not at his desk. I was told his wife had been rushed into hospital and he had gone to be with her – leaving no details of my assignment.
