‘This way, madam,’ and the crowds parted as she followed his highly polished shoes across the marbled floor. A long black BMW was waiting at the terminal doors.

‘How long will it take?’

‘About an hour and a half, madam. I have Mr Rivelli on the phone for you now, madam.’

He handed a tiny handset back over his shoulder.

‘Massimo? This is very naughty of you.’

‘You told me you had a couple of days off.’ She could hear rooks cawing, possibly the sound of running water.

‘I said I didn’t have to appear in court for a couple of days. That’s not quite the same thing. I have an awful lot of work to do.’

‘Then I hope you managed to get some done on the plane.’

‘I did, but . . .’

‘You will be here in time for a nice cup of tea. Ciao.’

The plane ticket had arrived at chambers by courier, first thing this morning, along with a note, ‘See you later, M.’ Her head light with exhilaration and the fear of being caught, she told the clerks she would be away on urgent business for two days, and took a cab all the way to Heathrow. It was a reckless extravagance, such as she had never allowed herself before. She felt as if she was falling.

After that first night, they had hardly been apart. She spent nights in the Butlers Wharf apartment; he never came to her, and that seemed, somehow, less of a risk, the unreality of that picturebook stretch of river frontage matching the fantastical nature of what she was doing. Having an affair with a client . . . On the eve of a big divorce trial . . . When your application for silk hangs in the balance . . .

And now, a long weekend in the Highlands, far away from prying eyes . . . Surely there among the heather and the grouse, or whatever else populated those remote regions, nobody would see them, nobody would care . . .

Up and down they went, along lochs, through mountain passes, heading north west, the city giving way to small, desolate towns, then villages, then nothing . . . Finally a glimpse of the sea, the tattered coastline of seaweed as brown as stewed tea, tossed up on beaches crunchy and sparkling with crushed shells. She opened the window and breathed. When had she last breathed air as clean as this?

‘We will be there in a few minutes, madam.’

I’ve got nothting to wear, thought Christine. But then again I suppose I won’t need much . . .