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At the meeting there was only a debate going between those who wanted to push for: British involvement; American involvement; neutrality; and – coming up on the outside – using the war as an opportune moment to launch a libertarian insurrection.

I could handle that.

The phone was ringing. I woke up and waved the light on. The clock said 03.38 and the little red bulb on the phone winked: an encrypted call. I picked it up and thumbed the switch. Myra’s face appeared on the display, black-and-white in a military cap and uniform. She looked as if she’d been up all night.

‘Oh,’ I said, ungraciously, stupid and irritable with sleep and disappointment. ‘It’s you.’ I’d hoped it was Eleanor.

‘Hello, Jon,’ Myra said. ‘Sorry to disturb you, but it’s –’

‘Who’s that?’ Annette struggled awake.

‘It’s Myra,’ I said. ‘Business.’

Annette glanced at the screen, grunted and pulled the covers over her head. I half-heard something like ‘nuclear whore’, and hoped Myra hadn’t.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s the Germans,’ Myra said. ‘They’re shopping around for nuclear cover, and they’re making us a very good offer.’

‘You’d better take it,’ I said, ‘before they arrive.’

‘That’s what I think,’ Myra said. ‘Problem: we’re over-booked, as you can imagine. The Germans are offering to buy out enough of our existing clients to reverse that. Will you sell?’

‘For what?’

‘Five million Deutschmarks, in gold, at pre-war – that is, day before yesterday’s – prices, no questions asked. I have the German negotiator on the line right now, and the Swiss bank account is verified.’

‘Christ! Give me a moment to think, OK?’

I hit the blank/silent button to hide my confusion and tried to think fast. It seemed odd that the Germans hadn’t set up some such deal before they actually launched Operation Restore Order, but perhaps the risk of exposing their intentions had prevented them. Now they were improvising a nuclear defence policy at blitzkrieg speed.

The offer was tempting, even apart from the money. With Eleanor in Berlin…

But we were here. The British nuclear deterrent was currently tied up in a dispute with the US, so ours – and other private-sector arrangements – was all we had to rely on. Who knew if we might need the option, perhaps after Eleanor was safely home?

And there was another consideration. If we sold our share of the Kazakh nukes to the Germans, the FreeSpace company would be undeniably involved in the war, on the German side. The repercussions of that were incalculable, and unlikely to be pleasant.

I toggled the output switch. Myra’s eyebrows flashed.

‘So?’

‘Sorry, Myra, no deal. Not our fight, and all that.’

Even on the tiny hand-held screen her face registered an increase in her weariness, but her voice conveyed no reproach when she said, ‘I understand. OK, Jon, I’ll try somewhere else. Signing off.’

‘Goodnight. See you again.’

She smiled as if this were some hopeless fancy. Her image shrank to a dot.

However momentous, in retrospect, my decision may seem, the fact is I slept well the rest of that night.

The next day the government lost a no-confidence motion (due to the abstention of only five MPs, the three Workers’ Power and two World Socialists) and fell, to be replaced by a more radical coalition drawing in support from the smaller parties. Neutrality was affirmed. The Upper House – elected now, but a transitional mix of old Lords and new Senators – debated the war issue separately, and came to a different conclusion. The first pro-war demonstrations, in the Midlands, were violently broken up by Republican Guards and Workers Power Party militants.

It was a bloody disgrace and we said so. At the same time – having won the argument in the committee – we started organising a campaign for neutrality and keeping out of the war. The UN imposed sanctions on Germany and Austria. The British ambassador walked out of the UN, a gesture which even I thought histrionic. It was to cost the Republic dear.

The Germans shelled Warsaw, live on CNN.

We didn