‘To the station,’ he said. ‘You’ve committed some serious criminal offences and it’ll be up to the Crown Prosecution Service now to decide what to do with you.’

With that, they put her into the back of a waiting police van and shut the door. She sat there, torn between laughter and shock, uncertain what to do next, before moving her tied hands to her right-hand pocket and nudging it with her elbow until her phone fell out and dropped to the floor. She leaned over it, poking it with her nose, aware of how undignified this must look but not caring, and clicked on the blue Twitter app but, to her horror, the police had obviously got there first.

This account has been suspended due to a violation of our rules, said the message on the homepage.

‘Oh my God!’ she screamed, looking up at where the heavens would have been, had the roof of the police van not been in the way. ‘I’ve been cancelled!’

THE LUCKIEST BOY IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

Achilles didn’t often come to this part of London and, when the taxi dropped him off in front of Rebecca’s house, he felt distinctly outside his comfort zone. He’d grown up around conspicuous wealth and luxury and didn’t much care for the cold winds of suburbia. Strolling up the driveway, however, he felt so excited about what lay ahead that he forgot his irritation over Jeremy’s no-show. The £5,000 that wasn’t burning a hole in his pocket could wait until tomorrow.

He rang the doorbell and, when Rebecca answered, broke into a wide grin. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder dress and her hair was flowing around her shoulders.

‘You look amazing,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

‘Seriously, I just want to throw you down on the staircase right now.’

She offered a half-smile. ‘Who says romance is dead?’ she asked, before stepping out of the way and ushering him inside.

‘I meant to bring you flowers, but I forgot,’ said Achilles, glancing around at the narrow hallway. ‘And I was planning on buying you some chocolates, but I forgot them too. I thought there was a box of After Eights at home, but someone seems to have eaten them all.’

‘It’s the thought that counts,’ she said, leading him into the living room and turning off the television. He looked around the small room and noticed the same newspaper on the coffee table as he’d been reading in the pub and wondered had she been reading about his father’s latest peccadillo.

‘So,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Here we are.’

‘Here we are indeed,’ she replied. ‘I like your shirt.’

‘Thank you. It’s new.’

‘You look very handsome.’

‘I know.’

She laughed.

‘Well, I do,’ he said. ‘There’s no need for false modesty, is there?’