Ana had never met Nitin, which made her suspect Dev of trying to set her up. If this was the idea, it didn’t work out. Having organised the evening, Dev quickly became annoyed, starting with Nitin’s choice of a budget Italian restaurant. ‘Really, this is the place you pick?’ It looked basic but okay, with plastic tablecloths.

Nitin rolled his eyes at Ana. He was delicately built and had a fine aquiline nose. A man on familiar terms with the city’s nightlife, it was he who’d taken Dev to the Den. Ana watched him carefully, wondering what he knew of other dens of iniquity. He worked in capital markets, where, Dev said, the guys took home the biggest pay packets in town. This was why it rankled Dev that he ate so cheaply.

Nitin, for his part, enjoyed needling Dev. ‘Why don’t you try the house bolognese?’ he said. ‘Oh, you don’t eat beef? And why would that be, Dev?’

‘Because, you know why. My family—’

‘I don’t know why.’

‘Because I still adhere to some precepts.’

‘You do?’ Nitin faked surprise. He was like a cat with a stuffed toy, wanting to tease and tear. ‘Which precepts are those again? When we go out clubbing?’

Ana waded in. ‘Everyone draws a line for himself – or herself.’

‘How true, Ana.’ He grinned at her and she feared what he might say next, but he merely asked a waiter to take their order. Two bolognese, one parmigiana and, yes, the garlic bread to start. Then he resumed the conversation. ‘How very true, Ana. I draw my own line. It moves as I do.’

Dev’s mood was foul throughout dinner. When they had parted from Nitin and were walking home, he said he would take her out again to make up for the night. They would go somewhere fancy, a converted brewery on the harbour, a place he really loved.

True to his word, he made a booking there for the next evening, and met her beforehand at the closest station. She spotted him striding across the tiles in the cavernous hall. ‘I love the space of it,’ he said, waving a hand at the height above. ‘Space for thinking big. I come here a lot, just to be near the water.’ He had also been reading more, he added as they walked to the restaurant. He rattled off authors – Richard Branson, Barack Obama. ‘A little Shakespeare too. I’ve been educating myself. I have the luxury of leisure.’

With relish he recited a couple of lines: ‘“Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.”’