Shaking his head at the narrow escape, Ricky began methodically tidying away anything in the flat that he thought looked suspicious. The framed picture of Verity was taken down, wrapped lovingly in a tea towel and hidden in the bedroom drawer which held the spare bed linen. He replaced it with a shot of Henna and Shona which he had kept for just such an occasion. He inspected the bathroom for any feminine pots and potions and put them away; Verity kept a towelling robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, which he removed and hung up in the wardrobe. The bedroom looked tidy and sterile, like a hotel room. The kitchen had very little in it, just some tea and coffee. It all seemed quite harmless. Satisfied, he popped out to buy some milk to make tea with. He might take his daughter out for lunch somewhere, if she had the time. That would give her less time to inspect the flat. He wondered what the urgent matter was that she had to discuss, and why she wanted to come halfway across London to discuss it. Of course! She was doubtless having trouble with the Pakistani; that’s why she didn’t want to see him in Tooting. Well, he’d be as supportive as possible, and not tell her I Told You So; he knew from experience that life was too short to spend it tied to the wrong person.

Shortly after Shona was due to arrive, the phone rang again. She must have got lost and needed directions. Ricky picked up the phone. ‘Hello, Jaan,’ he said automatically.

‘Darling it’s me,. Who’s Jaan?’ asked Verity with surprise.

‘I knew it was you,’ said Ricky, cursing himself for his stupid assumption. What was it he’d told his junior colleagues during a training seminar the other day? ‘Never assume, ladies and gentlemen. A lesson as vital in business as it is in life. Remember what assume spells - “ass-u-me” - when you assume, you’re making an ass out of both you and me.’ They had all laughed respectfully at his little witticism - he was their boss after all. ‘It just sort of means “Darling” in Urdu, I thought I’d surprise you.’

‘Well, Caro Ricky, you certainly did,’ laughed Verity with relief, pleased to have a chance to use the smattering of Italian she had picked up from the honeymoon. ‘Are you going to be long? I thought I might make us some lunch.’

’I’m sorry, I am. My books are in a mess and I need to sort them out to find the ones I’m looking for. I’ll be back in a few hours.’

‘Well, I can come to you and cook over there, if you like,’ Verity offered sweetly. ‘I said I didn’t mind keeping you company.’