Phyl grinned. ‘There are times even I’d rather not hear … but for the moment he’s doing well. Going up to university next term. Hardly seems possible, does it? Little Teddy at the London School of Economics? Doesn’t seem ten minutes since you were teaching him to count to five, love, with conkers in a jam jar. He was just asking about you before he set off for Florence. We’ll have a party when he gets back and you can check him over yourself. I’m more concerned about you at present.’

‘And next you’ll be telling me never to sign anything until you’ve taken a look at it.’

‘Good advice! Did I ever say that? Well, listen now to the voice of experience. I say again – this man’s after something. It’s all here,’ she said, tapping the card. ‘Choice of flower first. What do we read into that? Lilies for a Lily, eh? Bit bloomin’ obvious, isn’t it?’

‘Well, the lily’s my birthday flower – May. He’d have known that from the notes. And it signifies purity. But that I’m sure he would not have any information on!’

‘Loverish whimsy are we thinking? Can you be sure he chose them? We can’t assume that – not of a man with a secretary to do the domestic for him. Still, if she’s the supercilious cow you describe, you’d have ended up with a bunch of daisies from the back garden. I’m calculating he chose them to flatter and amuse. Now let’s read these runes. They look like runes. Black … chiselled … bossy. Mmm … I don’t much like what I’m seeing. These message cards are very small. Most men, in their excitement, run over and finish the message on the back, have you noticed?’

Lily smiled. ‘Oh, Phyl! I wouldn’t know. This is the first shop-bought bouquet I’ve ever had. A bunch of sticky bluebells and an even stickier kiss from Billy Benson on a charabanc trip to Epping Forest in 1914 is the best I’ve done so far.’

‘Pity your first had to come from a rogue then. Yes – rogue. Look – do you see the writing fills the given space exactly? And he uses a thick-nibbed pen. He’s adjusted his normal style and tailored his message. It’s calculated to the tenth of an inch. He’s given it careful thought. I definitely don’t think he’s planning to have his wicked way with you, though. Out of the question. A man in his position – in the public eye, two or three more steps more to go on the ladder, would that be? He’s not going to risk the scandal of taking advantage of one of the female staff. Too much to lose. No, I reckon you’re safe as far as that goes. He’s not planning to twang your elastic.’ Phyl eyed Lily’s outfit with distaste. ‘Besides, I don’t expect he’s noticed there’s a pretty girl in there.’

‘Well, you may just be wrong, Phyl. I did come in for an inspection of sorts. He checked my height and weight and age. He rather insisted on seeing me without my hat. I thought he might be about to look at my teeth and feel my fetlocks.’

‘Dirty devil! And no other female present while he sniffs around, poking under your hat and measuring your hemline? Well, that’s a breach of the rules for a start. Complain to Miss Peto! She’ll be down on him like a ton of bricks.’ Phyllis shook her head. ‘But I still can’t see what’s in it for him. Where the thrill would be.’

‘Never underestimate a man’s capacity for perversion, Phyl! There’s something about the uniform that sets them off. They love to be dominated, you know.’

‘Where on earth do you get all this rubbish from?’ Phyl was scandalized but intrigued.

‘I learned that from an old jam-tart who trawls the Baze, sitting on a bench in the park. I could have had her arrested but didn’t. I usually don’t.’ Lily laughed. ‘In reward for my kindness, she treated me to a lesson in … not quite sure what you’d call it … um … bending gentlemen to one’s will, I suppose. Then, once you’ve got them bending, you give them a good spanking. Whilst wearing a uniform.’

‘Which party’s meant to be in uniform?’ Phyl asked with a grimace of distaste.

‘Either or both, I expect. Phyl, you’d be surprised to hear the inventive suggestions I’ve had for bringing my navy serge into disrepute. The offers roll in! I could make a fortune if I were that way inclined. More if I were a nurse, of course.’

Phyllis grunted her disapproval. ‘There’s probably a word for that sort of thing. Something in Greek that I’d rather not hear. But that’s not this man’s problem, evidently. He wants to see you in “something sparkling at the wrist and throat”. I’m assuming something in between … yes? I can see you intend to accept this invitation, if that’s what it is – it reads rather more like a royal command. So what are you planning? Got any sparklers?’

‘He has no idea! I expect he only knows women who visit Asprey the jeweller’s twice a week and have wardrobes full of evening clothes.’ Lily’s voice was bitter. ‘He could have asked any of the other recruits. They don’t exactly have their tin lockers at the hostel stuffed with ball gowns but they’ve got silks and satins by the furlong stashed away at the family seat, you can bet. I should think he doesn’t even know the price of a pair of evening gloves.’

She gave the cocoa an over-vigorous stir. ‘I know. Barmy of me even to think of accepting. I nearly chucked in the towel when I thought about it. But – all too easy to do a Cinderella and stay behind blackleading the grate and sighing with frustration. I can’t do that.’

Phyllis looked at her with affection. ‘No, love. You were never a Cinders. More of a Little Red Hen – “I can do it myself”. God, that can be annoying!’

‘I have to find out what this man’s up to. Even if I have to kit myself out from a stall in Petticoat Lane. It could be that he really wants me to do a bit of serious detective work and that’s a chance I’m not going to pass up. So, I have to work something out. I thought I’d borrow my mother’s black silk evening dress – the one she wore to the Mayor’s Armistice Day do last year. I could tack up the hem and put a belt round it. You could help me tiddle it up a bit … I wouldn’t tell her and she’d never notice. I can just afford a pair of new shoes and I wondered …’ Lily hesitated, hobbled by the task of asking a favour from anyone, even from the woman she was closer to than her own mother.

Phyllis read her thought. ‘… wondered if I’d lend you a little cocktail hat to distract from the God-awful black number you’ll be wearing? A little bit of nonsense in silver and pearl trembling over the right eye to hold his attention? Of course I will. You’ve a dozen to choose from. But look, love, this needs a bit of planning. This sparkling bit is the bloke’s way of signalling evening dress. It means he’ll be in tails. The Royal Opera House? The Ritz? Either way, your ma’s silk is not going to rise to the challenge. And it’s summer still – no one under thirty’s going to be wearing black. Inconsiderate oaf! Why couldn’t he have been more precise? Think back. Did he give you a clue while you were having your chat – express an enthusiasm for Puccini, rave about the sole normande at the Caprice?’

Lily shook her head. ‘We’re not on those terms, Phyl. But I don’t somehow see him at the opera. I doubt he could sit still long enough. He’s a bit too outdoorsy and twitchy for that. I can more easily imagine him cutting a rug at a jazz club.’

‘Gracious! How old is this gent? I’d imagined some old fart with mutton-chop whiskers and gouty knees.’

‘No, not at all. He’s younger than Uncle David. Not thirty yet, I’d guess. Too young for the position he holds, everybody says. The others of that rank are moustached, mouldering old codgers who do nothing more energetic than shift papers from one side of the desk to the other all day, checking staff rotas and sacking people. This one’s different. After the Paddington station performance, I asked around a bit. “Know your enemy.” He oughtn’t to feel like an enemy, but he does. What the men say is that Sandilands is one of the new generation of officers – you know, brought in from outside the force to put a bit of grit in the mix and train on for higher things.’