“No, don’t be silly,” Katie interjected. “I think the least we can do after your desperate trip to the frozen north is stand you to a bacon sandwich.” She took off her anorak and hung it up on the coat stand, then pulled off her Wellington boots and kicked her feet into a pair of old brown sailing shoes with broken backs, an indication that changing her footwear was a pretty regular occurrence. It was the first time that Dan had seen her free from her somewhat unflattering rainwear and he was impressed with what he saw. He watched her as she walked over to where the electric kettle teetered rather precariously on one of the windowsills. She gave it a shake to check that there was sufficient water in it and switched it on. Although no taller than five and a half feet, she had a figure that was totally in proportion to her height. Her hips were slim, her bust was full but firm inside her blue cashmere polo-necked jersey, and although she was wearing a brightly coloured pair of Vagabonds, the generous cut of which would no doubt have delayed many a “heavier set” woman from going on a crash diet, he could tell that, in Katie’s case, they were hiding from view a pert bottom and a shapely pair of legs.

“Right,” she said, returning to where he stood at the reception desk. “While we’re waiting for that to boil, would you like me to explain what’s happening in here?”

Dan took off his leather jacket, which had begun to steam in the heat of the office and give off a smell like a bullock with a personal hygiene problem. “Could I hang this somewhere to dry? It’s soaked right through.”

“Of course,” Katie said, taking the jacket from him. “I’m sorry. I should have thought.”

She walked to the far end of the room and spread the garment over a radiator at the back of an unoccupied desk that Dan reckoned to be her own. “That should do it.”

“Are you sure it’ll be all right like that?” Dan asked, eyeing his precious jacket with concern.

“I would think so. It won’t harm the leather, if that’s what you mean.”

Dan decided to trust her judgment. She, of all people, must know about that kind of thing.

“Okay, then,” she said, stopping behind the two women who sat at the computer screens, talking incessantly into their mouthpieces. She put a hand on a shoulder of each. They turned to give her a brief smile without faltering in their conversations. “These two lovely ladies are Heather and Maggie. Come over here and I’ll explain what they’re doing.”

Dan moved around the side of the reception desk and walked over to stand beside her.