We went back to my flat – it was nearer and it felt like there was no time to waste. Seb had let his driver go earlier so we got a black cab across the river, across London Bridge, kissing all the way back until I felt like a teenager, like I was going to explode into Tom and Jerry stars, and then the cab dropped us among the debris of the wooden crates and cabbage leaves and old coffee cups which was Borough Market on a Monday night, and by now I was desperate to have him near me, in me, his bare flesh against mine. Most of all I was desperate to stop thinking. We slammed up against the door as I fumbled with the keys and we were in the stairwell, tearing at each other’s clothes. Seb pushed me against the wall, unbuttoning my jeans, pushing up my top, and I was shaking with desire now and pulling at his shirt and he was groaning my name and we didn’t make it to the bedroom but did it right there on the velvet sofa, which had been very expensive once but had definitely seen better days.

Afterwards I wrapped myself in the silk throw from the armchair and lit a cigarette, smiling shyly at my new lover. ‘I’m not normally so forward, you know.’

‘It is the twenty-first century, babe. Come here, why don’t you.’ He patted the sofa where he still sprawled, his shirt unbuttoned. He hadn’t even got his trousers off, we’d been so frantic. His body was good, toned and lean, his olive skin so smooth I was tempted to lick it like an ice-cream. But I lay on the other end of the sofa and he lifted my feet and put them in his lap. Suddenly self-conscious, I froze as he traced the livid scar on my left foot with one finger.

‘What’s this from?’ He frowned. ‘It looks new.’

I hid behind the smoke from my cigarette. ‘It is quite. I had a – I was in an accident.’

‘What kind of accident?’

‘A crash. It was a – a coach crash.’

‘Recently?’

‘Yes. Pretty recent.’

He looked at me. ‘Not the M4 one? When the horses got out?’

I nodded bleakly. I still couldn’t bear to talk about it really, not even to someone I’d just had sex with.

Seb leaned down and kissed my foot softly. ‘Poor baby.’

I shivered.

‘Is it still sore?’ He looked worried.

I shrugged. ‘Not the scar, not really. It’s more inside, like deep inside my foot.’ I killed my cigarette in the ashtray. ‘And it’s weird, you know, but I’m sure it hurts more when it rains.’

Seb pulled me towards me until I straddled him, and slid his hands under the silk, cupping my breast, breathing gently on my neck until I squirmed with pleasure.