“I had something on that night. But I can now get out of it, so I’d love to go with you. Assuming you haven’t offered the ticket to someone else.”

“I’m sorry, but two of my friends were desperate to see Olivier, so…”

“I understand,” said Priya.

“But I turned them down.”

“Why?”

“They both have hairy legs.”

Priya burst out laughing.

“I know you—”

“Where do you—”

“No, you first,” said Priya.

“I just have so many questions I want to ask you.”

“Me too.”

“I know you went to St. Paul’s and then Girton, but why banking?”

“I’ve always been fascinated by figures and the patterns they create, especially when you have to explain their significance to men, who so often are only interested in a short-term gain.”

“Like me, perhaps?”

“I hope not, Seb.”

It could have been Samantha speaking. He wouldn’t make the same mistake a second time. “How long have you been with Hambros?”

“Just over three years.”

“So you must be thinking about your next move?”

“So like a man,” said Priya. “No, I’m very happy where I am, although I do get depressed when inadequate men are promoted to positions above their actual ability. I wish banking was like the ballet. If it was, Margot Fonteyn would be governor of the Bank of England.”

“I don’t think Sir Leslie O’Brien would make a very good black swan,” said Seb as the three-minute bell rang. He quickly drained his glass of wine.

Priya was right, because Seb couldn’t take his eyes off the black swan, who mesmerized the entire audience with her brilliance, and when the curtain fell at the end of act three, he was desperate to find out what would happen in the final act.

“Don’t tell me, don’t tell me,” he said as they returned to their table.

“I won’t,” said Priya. “But savor the moment, because sadly you can only have this unique experience once.”

“Perhaps you’ll have the same experience when I take you to The Merchant of Venice.”

“How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!

Here will we sit and let the sounds of music

Creep in our ears. Soft stillness and the night

Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica, look how—”

Sebastian bowed his head.

“I’m so sorry,” said Priya. “What did I say?”

“Nothing, nothing. You just reminded me of something.”

“Or someone?”

Seb was rescued by the P.A. “Ladies and gentlemen, would you please take your seats, the final act is about to begin.”

The final act was so moving, and Fonteyn so captivating, that when Seb turned to see if it was having the same effect on Priya, he thought he saw a tear trickling down her cheek. He took her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m making a fool of myself.”

“That wouldn’t be possible.”