She relaxed and stretched a hand across the table, placing it on the back of his hand. ‘It’s OK. You were trying to lighten up. Just don’t bother.’ She withdrew the hand.

‘Understood,’ he murmured. ‘So… I guess our friend Buttler could build the same scenario with Rayah as he’s done for you. Probably already has.’

‘Let’s hope one of her friends checked their watch when she arrived at her party.’

‘Then there’s the text message.’

‘I did get it,’ said Sara with untypical emphasis.

‘Of course you got it.’ He edged nearer. ‘You don’t think for one minute I—’

‘No. It’s just that I feel I’m living through some kind of madness. You begin to mistrust yourself.’

‘You mustn’t,’ said Patrick sharply.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘What have you done with the files?’

‘There’s a copy in safe storage. It’s better you don’t know where.’

‘What about the originals? The original photocopies, I mean. I’ll need them.’

‘I reckoned the safest place for them is my desk in the office. They won’t go there again.’

For the first time, Sara managed a smile. ‘Well, if they do, at least we’ll know for sure, won’t we?’ She drained her coffee. ‘Back to the office?’

‘No, home. Who needs the media gauntlet?’

They walked into the street, simultaneously looking around and behind. They caught each other in the act and exchanged rueful grins.

‘What was it we were to get shot of?’ she asked gently. ‘Paranoia?’

‘As a man once said, just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. I’m heading for the tube.’

‘Think I may walk for a while. I need to blow off some steam.’

‘OK.’ He grabbed her by the wrist. ‘Sara, if there’s anything you know, anything you’re not telling me, any tiny bit of info, any strangenesses, weird calls, whatever, you’ve got to tell me.’ He released his grip and she stood back from him.

‘Where did that come from?’

‘You’re right. Things have changed. I’m going to look after you.’

‘I can look after myself, Patrick.’

‘How did I know you were going to say just that?’

He turned smartly on his heel and strode off in the direction of Kennington tube. Sara wished she’d known him for years, not just a few days. She still could not fully read him – and he seemed to send different signals at different times.

One thing she felt sure of – she was safe with him. He was a good man; the issue was whether he was a strong or a weak man.

Clouds swelling with menace were gathering as she turned back for the second time that day into Webster Road. Head down, she upped her pace to beat the imminent burst of rain.