The shop was shut, predictably, and so we went to the pub and got cigarettes there. Obviously we had a drink, too, so that by the time we got back to the party, Paul had gone. Celine too. Michael scratched his head with theatrical bewilderment and regarded the thinning crowd.

‘Good Lord. It seems I have no other choice but to escort you home.’

He did, in a taxi, and, to my surprise, he didn’t ambush me. He just dropped me back at my flat and said goodnight. But not before he’d got my number and then clearly asked the driver to wait. The taxi didn’t trundle off until I’d found my key, opened the front door, and shut it behind me.

I found myself thinking about Michael the whole of the following day as I cooked. When I delivered my coq au vin to the assembled directors in the dining room – Paul thankfully not amongst them – it was with a cheery smile, so that a couple of the elder statesmen smiled back, not averse to having their lunch delivered by a pretty young girl. But they looked surprised, too, so that it occurred to me that perhaps I hadn’t smiled much, historically.

He didn’t ring that evening, nor the next, but the following night the phone went and I found myself pouncing on it before Helena could. She looked at me in surprise. I dragged it out to the hall and sat on the stairs as we chatted. We agreed to meet on Saturday. I went back in. Helena raised her eyebrows and looked at me in amusement.

‘You look like you’ve just had sex.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Your eyes are huge and your face is flushed and your hair’s all over the place.’

‘Crap,’ I scoffed, but I smoothed my hair down quickly where I’d obviously been flipping it back and forth as we’d chatted.

‘No, I’m thrilled. Haven’t seen you look like that for years. Who is he?’

I told her. She nodded slowly. Was silent.

‘You know him?’

‘Only by repute. Ant does, I think. You might be a bit careful, hon.’

‘What d’you mean?’ I bridled defensively.

‘No, nothing terrible. Just … well, he’s older, and therefore a bit more – you know.’

‘Experienced?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Well, he’s bound to be, surely?’

‘Oh quite,’ she said quickly, not wanting to rain on my parade. ‘It’s just, I’ve heard he gets what he wants.’

I shrugged. ‘I may not want him.’

She smiled. ‘That’s the spirit.’