‘Look, it’s a misunderstanding.’ He felt a wave of sympathy towards Draper as he watched the reality of what she had done set in. The moment was suddenly so awkward that it was almost comical. ‘We can just forget about this.’

‘But I thought it was what you wanted.’ Draper sat down heavily onto her original seat. ‘I thought you wanted me.’

Michael stayed standing.

‘There’s only one woman I want,’ he answered, his tone certain. ‘And that’s Sarah.’

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. When Draper finally broke it her voice was weaker. Somehow younger.

‘Have I ruined this?’

‘Ruined what?’

‘Us? The work “us”, I mean. Have I broken up the team?’

‘No. No, not at all.’ Michael reached out for Draper’s hand. He took it and guided her up from the seat. Ignoring the pain of his injury. ‘All you’ve done is clear the air on something that was building. I should have done it myself a week ago but I was hoping it’d just pass. Now it’s done and we can just forget about it and move on. As friends.’

‘Still?’

‘Still, yeah. But just friends. And I think the kind of friends who don’t drink alone together in a hotel suite for a while.’

Draper smiled awkwardly, wiping away the few tears that had spilled over.

‘So time for me to go then?’

‘I think so.’

‘Do you mind if I clean myself up first?’

‘No problem. But I’m going to head down to the bar while you do that. Then you can let yourself out. OK?’

Michael moved away, picked up the room keycard from the table and headed towards the door.

‘I’ll see you on Monday.’

Draper returned his friendly smile and nodded.

‘See you Monday.’

SIXTY-SEVEN

It took Jenny Draper almost twenty minutes to leave Michael’s suite. To compose herself, both physically and emotionally.

The first of those had not taken long. Draper had just washed away the tear stains and re-applied her make-up. A quick fix.

It was the emotional fall-out that delayed her. She was not used to rejection. To a man saying ‘no’. It was hard to take, and more than a little confusing.

How the hell did I misread his signals so badly, Draper had thought to herself.

By the time the elevator opened into the hotel reception, the lesson had been learned. Humiliating, but valuable. She just hoped Michael’s reassurances had been genuine. That it would not make things awkward between them.

Draper walked through the reception and exited the hotel, onto the quiet cobbled street outside. She had not taken in her surroundings on arrival; she had been too jacked up on fear, excitement and adrenaline. Now she did, as she looked around to get her bearings. The large green to her left – Charterhouse Square – and the long, cobbled, antiquated road that led back to the Barbican and the nearest Tube station.

Feeling in need of a drink and some friendly support, she took out her mobile phone from her pocket, scrawled through a list of names and found the person most likely to be drinking locally.