‘I think we were both at sixes and sevens today. Both in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m not usually a crier - Georgio can bear me out on that.’

It was as if his name had opened up a gulf between them, and each subconsciously took a step back from the other, distanced themselves in case the embrace should be repeated.

‘Let’s both have another brandy,’ Alan suggested, taking charge again, ‘and then we’ll talk properly about what you came here to ask, shall we? I promise not to bite your head off.’

Donna wiped her eyes once more with her fingers and smiled tremulously. Alan handed her a large white handkerchief and she patted her face carefully, dismayed at the black streaks appearing on the snowy linen.

Alan poured them both more drinks. Opening a box on his desk, he took out a cigarette and lit it, handing it to Donna as she once more seated herself in her chair. She took it gratefully, pulling on it hard, drawing the smoke down into her lungs as if it was oxygen and she was dying for lack of it.

‘Drink your brandy.’ Alan’s voice was still low. He could feel the electric charge in the room and knew that Donna Brunos felt it as well.

‘I’m afraid I had what is known as a shitty day today, Donna, and you came in on the tail end of it—’

She interrupted him. ‘No, Alan, you were right in all you said, really. I should never have come here asking your advice like that. You have known Stephen a long time; this is your patch here, Soho, your way of life. I turn up like a silly schoolgirl asking stupid questions on a whim - and it was a whim, you know. Nothing concrete, just a gut feeling.’ She laughed gently as she spoke, feeling foolish once more. ‘I’ll ring Stephen tomorrow and apologise to him. He must feel like I have taken his kindness and kicked it back into his teeth. He really was a boon when Georgio was sentenced. So please . . . don’t apologise. It’s me who should be apologising, for bothering you in the first place.’

Alan grunted. If only she wouldn’t be so bloody humble!

‘Look, Donna, I don’t mind you asking me questions, honestly. It’s just that today I was a bit overwrought, that’s all. Now as to what you said about Stephen, I think it would be best for all concerned if you left him to run Talkto. OK? Just leave him doing what he knows best. Really, Donna, it’s the only thing you can do. I have set the ball rolling for the other business and believe me when I say, once we get our tongues around that lot, there won’t be time for a shit, a shave or a shampoo.’