‘I am.’ Linda coughed a little, dribbled out of the side of her mouth. Christine passed her a tissue. ‘I know I’ve been a pain in the arse sometimes.’

‘You haven’t . . .’

‘But it was always good to know that you were there. I could tell people that I’d had some part in your success.’

‘Come on, you didn’t do so badly yourself.’

‘You were the lucky one, Chris. The star. Biggest star of your generation.’

‘Don’t. You’ll make me . . .’

‘You had the success and the husband and the family . . .’

Where is this going? Is she going to throw it all in my face?

‘And one day, you’ll take silk.’

‘I don’t think there’s much hope of that now, Linda.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Linda, laughing weakly. ‘Everyone knows you’ll be a QC one day. I bet you – within a year. Eighteen months at the most.’

‘You seem to have forgotten a certain awkward business . . .’

Linda’s eyes were huge and wet. ‘Rivelli!’ She barked the word.

‘Rivelli,’ said Christine.

‘They’ll forget that soon enough.’

‘I don’t think so. Stories like that don’t just go away.’

‘Oh, we have ways of shortening people’s memories,’ said Linda. ‘You know there were photographs, don’t you?’

‘Photographs? Christ.’

‘Yes. Someone was watching you.’

‘I suppose everyone has seen them.’

Linda pursed up her mouth and raised her eyebrows. Her cheeks were sunken, her face a skull. ‘No, I don’t think so. I made sure of that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know Gerry. Pennington and Blythe.’

‘Of course.’

‘He got hold of the evidence. Showed it to Janet Rivelli.’

‘I thought something like that . . .’

‘You know where he got it from?’

‘No.’

‘Rivelli’s former mistress.’

‘Victoria Crabtree?’

Linda wagged a finger. ‘That’s the one. Who in turn had got it from her boyfriend. Who, a little bird tells me, might not have been absolutely unknown to you.’

‘I don’t . . .’ The penny dropped. ‘Oh my God. Joel.’

‘If you say so. You must have made a very good impression.’ Linda chuckled. ‘So he takes the photograph, shows it to Victoria . . .’

‘Victoria and Joel? You mean they were . . . together?’

‘So it seems. You and she have rather a lot in common, don’t you?’

‘Linda, really, I don’t think that’s any of your business.’

‘Sit down, Christine, and listen to what I have to say. Victoria bides her time, waits for her opportunity, and then, at the perfect moment, sends the photograph to Gerry at Pennington and Blythe.’

‘Of course. She was in court.’

‘Gerry thinks he’s struck gold, and shows it to Janet . . .’

‘Who then discloses all the details of Rivelli’s hidden assets . . .’

‘Your case is shot down in flames . . .’

‘And I’m the laughing stock of the bar.’

‘Yes.’ Linda coughed, swallowed. ‘For now.’

‘And the photograph . . . What did it show, exactly?’

‘I don’t know, darling.’

‘You didn’t . . .’