Feeling nervous and guilty – it was almost as if she were having an affair, sneaking out behind Michael’s back – she picked up her navy jacket, checked her image once more in the mirror, then opened her bedroom door. Finch had told her to meet him in Soho, at a trendy dim-sum restaurant she’d never been to. But as she began to walk down the corridor, the blasted bell sounded.

She hesitated. Don’t stop, urged a voice in her head. She had told Michael she was going out, but she was sure he would have forgotten by now. If there was a problem, Daniel could deal with it, now he was living in the flat full time. But she knew she would worry if she didn’t go to him.

Michael stared when Romy entered the room.

‘Gracious,’ he murmured. ‘You look stunning.’

She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Thanks … Do you want something?’ She knew she sounded brisk, but she was late already.

‘You’re going out?’ Michael raised his eyebrows.

‘Of course not. I always dress up like this to watch Murder She Wrote,’ she retorted, riled at his obvious assumption that she had no other life. ‘I did tell you.’

‘Who with?’ he asked, ignoring her sarcasm.

‘A friend.’

‘What friend?’

‘He’s a neighbour, in Sussex.’

Michael frowned. ‘Do I know him?’

‘No … Listen, I’ve got to go, Michael. Is there something you need? I can get Daniel …’

Michael blinked hard, as if he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. ‘Umm, no. I’m fine. Just felt like a chat.’

‘Sorry about that.’ She gave him a small wave. ‘Night. Hope you get some sleep.’

‘Don’t stay out too late,’ Michael called, as she turned away.

‘You look completely gorgeous,’ Finch said, as they took their seats in the restaurant, and Romy heard the uncomfortable echo of Michael’s words. ‘Love the dress.’

Romy couldn’t stop smiling; she was so pleased to see him. She’d been tense on the journey there, holding onto herself tightly, unable to shake off Michael’s expression when she’d referred to Finch. She’d felt an urgent need to put distance between herself and her knowing husband and had hurried to the restaurant as if she had the devil on her tail.

It was a long while later – a good many glasses of deliciously chilled white and an array of spicy dim sum consumed – that Finch gave her a level gaze across the table and said, ‘I’m staying up tonight. Come back with me?’