But I wanted to deal with things my way. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening today. Or any day, actually.

‘Maggie.’ Joseph’s colour was high. ‘I think you should come back.’

‘But I’m having lunch,’ I said forlornly, and ate a chip to prove it.

‘Maggie!’ Sally pushed me out of the booth. ‘Go on. I’ll get a doggie bag for you.’

Muttering, I scrabbled for my cigarettes and, dodging cyclists, followed Joseph across the busy road to work.

The small, wiry policeman waiting in my office stood politely as I came through the door. ‘Maggie Warren? DI Fox.’

‘Hello.’ I took his proffered hand. Then I looked at him again. ‘I – have we met before?’ I asked anxiously.

‘We have met, yes.’

My stomach clenched as I peered at his sandy face. ‘Really?’

‘Don’t you remember?’

Oh God. Not again. I bit my lip.

‘At the studio.’

‘Oh yes.’ It suddenly fell into place. The trauma show. ‘Of course.’

‘Your foot better now, then?’

‘Yes, thanks. Much better.’ I was so relieved I felt almost cheerful as I sat down at my desk. ‘So, how can I help you?’

‘That was my question actually.’ He took out a small pad and perused it briefly. I noticed the cuffs of his shirt were rather threadbare. ‘We had a call from a – a Sebastian Rae.’

I flushed, wishing my office were a little bigger, that I wasn’t so very near DI Fox. ‘Oh yes?’

‘Mr Rae seems to think you received some sort of threat this morning.’

‘Right.’ I supposed I was pleased Seb was so worried about me.

‘So?’

‘What?’

He was infinitely patient. ‘Tell me about it, please.’

‘Honestly, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just kids. You know. Graffiti.’ Or my jealous ex-boyfriend. I’d rung Alex as soon as I’d got off the tube, but I was still waiting to hear back about the paint on his boots. He was probably busy, sharing some divine croissants with Serena. I sniffed and adjusted the photo of Digby the girls had framed for me last Christmas.

‘And you’re sure that’s all it is?’ The policeman had very orange hair that he’d slicked back; it gleamed in lucozade-coloured pools under the nasty strip lighting. ‘No other incidents that have worried you or alerted you?’

‘Alerted me?’

‘Well, those words: Meddling whore …’ He was watching me very intently. I blanched. ‘They’re very specific, aren’t they?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Often in these kinds of cases – you know, vandalism on private property – often they’re caused by a dispute with neighbours. Have you had any sort of problems like that? No late-night parties or anything anyone’s objected to?’