“Those who don’t, brag. Get your stuff and hurry up.”

Grumbling, I stride into my bedroom to grab a thin olive-coloured jacket. I look down at myself, realising my outfit of jeans and a navy Ralph Lauren polo shirt will look immeasurably different from Laurie’s. It lacks holes for a start.

I come back out to find him examining a picture on the wall. It’s a six-foot landscape of the Danish coast done in sepia tones. “This is so good,” he says. “Your mum?”

I nod. “She gave it to me when I was twenty-one.”

He whistles. “Nice present.”

“I’d have preferred a motorbike,” I inform him. He gapes at me and I wave my hand. “Shall we?”

He peeps through the open door of my study at the mess of papers on the desk. “We definitely should.”

We leave the flat, and, as I lock the door, he leans against the wall watching me. “You seem busy,” he observes.

“I have a trial starting on Monday. I’m just getting a few things straight in my head.”

“Are you nervous?”

I look at him incredulously. “No.”

We walk towards the lift. “You thrive on your job, don’t you?” he says.

I shrug. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“Even living in such an artistic world? Your dad was a poet laureate and your mum a painter. Being a barrister is such a departure.”

“I was the shame of the family,” I say solemnly. “My mother was so embarrassed when I got my law degree that she wouldn’t tell anyone what I did for ages. She thought I should be doing something creative, so she’d tell people rather vaguely that I did something with paper. Half of her circle were convinced I was an origami expert.” He laughs. “It is true. I still get handed paper and asked to make a swan.” I consider that. “The only thing worse would have been if I became a policeman. But then I’d have had to arrest half of her boyfriends.”

“Did she have many?”

We walk out of the building into the sunshine, and I slide my Ray-Bans down over my eyes. “Define many.”

He starts to laugh. “Ouch!”

“Usually at this point, a man would be full of sympathy for me.”

“I’m not most men,” he informs me truthfully. “Anyway, that’s a lie. Your young men would probably be pretending to listen to you while wondering which knot to tie on their genital decorations.”

“You could be right,” I say slowly. “Good grief, I always thought they were interested.”

“Probably just bored into submission,” he says in a comforting tone.

I laugh, and then look around. “Where are we going?”

“For a walk.”

“The river is just over there. We’re going towards the city.”

“Best place in my opinion.”

I eye him. “You are a very strange man.”

“It has been said.”