‘Back in the sixties, most of the major Russian newspapers were state-controlled. One of the main players, Soveyemka published a list of thirty British citizens who they said were Russian spies. It was largely propaganda, but as it was considered incendiary and dangerous, there was a media blackout on the story being published in the UK. We had a visit from a member of the Foreign Office, Jonathon Soames – Lord Soames as he is now – telling us to let it drop.’
Abby looked at Elliot.
‘I recognise that name. I was looking at some old society party pictures of Dominic, and Soames was in a couple of them.’
‘So you think Dominic got his friend in high places to wade in and protect his girlfriend?’ said Elliot.
Desmond shook his head.
‘No. Soveyemka printed the spy list in 1962, after Dominic’s death. And as far as I can remember, Rosamund’s name wasn’t even on it. But Blake’s was.’
Abby looked at him in shock.
‘Dominic Blake was listed as a spy?’
Clive shrugged.
‘As I said, who knew what was the truth. The Russians wanted us to believe that there were traitors in every sector of our ruling elite. They wanted to destabilise us.’
‘So you think Dominic might have turned Rosamund?’
‘Or vice versa. If it’s true.’
Chapter Seventeen
Abby couldn’t find her swimming costume anywhere. She wasn’t entirely sure she needed it, but she’d googled the name of the hotel that Elliot had given her and it looked swanky enough to have a pool.
The only thing suitable that she could find in her drawers was a tiny pink bikini she had worn on her honeymoon. There was no way she wanted Elliot Hall to see her in that thing, but knowing that the taxi was due to arrive at any moment, she threw it into her wheelie case anyway.
The doorbell rang and she threw her hands up in frustration. She half zipped up her case and struggled with it down the stairs, losing a bottle of shampoo and her hair straighteners along the way.
She answered the door expecting to see Raj, her local cab driver, then blinked hard.
‘Ginny! What on earth are you doing here?’
Her sister-in-law didn’t wait to be invited in.
‘I sent you three messages this morning and you didn’t reply. I was worried about you.’
‘Worried about me?’ asked Abby in puzzlement. ‘What – you thought I’d done something stupid?’
Ginny gave her a withering look.
‘Yes – like forgetting our brunch date,’ she said, putting the bundle of weekend newspapers she was carrying on the console table in the hall.
Abby felt her shoulders sink.
‘Oh Ginny. I’m sorry. My phone’s been charging so I didn’t hear it. Besides, I’ve been running around like a lunatic this morning.’
‘Well I’m here now,’ Ginny said, clapping her hands briskly. ‘Come on. Chop, chop. If we leave it much later, we won’t get a table. You know how busy the Village gets.’
Abby looked at her sister-in-law and winced in apology.
‘I can’t come. Something has come up.’
Ginny frowned.
‘Really?’