‘Believe it,’ I said grimly, giving an Oscar winning performance. It helped that I’d seen the article, but let’s not forget, I’m good at this. I’ve had plenty of practice, with Michael’s women. ‘Go back to the Belgravia, Amanda, and ask them exactly what their reservations are. Ask to see the chap in charge, the one you really rate—’

‘Dr Kaluigui,’ she said, eagerly.

‘That’s it, Dr Kaluigui. Ask to see him. Have a proper meeting, and say you’ve heard worrying reports. Presumably his new Austrian clinic will have state-of-the-art equipment?’

‘Yes, and it’s on the lake, too. Fabulous views. Very luxurious, apparently.’

The waitress was back. I slipped the card into her machine and punched out the number. She tore off the receipt and handed it to me.

‘Well, there you are. Now I’ve got to fly, Amanda. I promised I’d pop in on Helena while I was up, she’s got the day off. But I want you to promise me you’ll go, yes? To Dr Kaluigui?’ I got to my feet, simultaneously plucking my jacket from the back of my chair and slipping into it. I furrowed my brow. ‘Otherwise I shall worry …’

‘Oh, I will,’ she said eagerly. ‘I’ll ring as soon as I get home.’ She knocked back her wine and made to get up.

‘No, don’t rush,’ I told her, putting my hand on her arm and making myself lean in and kiss her cheek, which stalled her. I sure as hell didn’t want to walk with her. For her to revisit anything. ‘You stay and finish that.’ I nodded at the small amount left in the bottle. ‘Otherwise it’s a waste. But please, let me know how you get on, hm?’

I gave her a steady smile: a really worried smile. And I touched her arm again, a gesture typical of Amanda, who was very tactile. My heart was beating fast. I turned and wound my way through the tables towards the door, praying she wasn’t following me. She wasn’t. As I went out, down the street, I saw her, still at the table. She was pouring the remains of the wine and getting her phone out of her clutch bag.