‘Yes. Is it important?’

I close my eyes for a second. The noise of the baristas taking orders, the hiss of steam and clunk of stainless steel bombard me. When I open them Alex is looking at me anxiously.

‘It might be,’ I say.

‘It affected us too, you know. We lost a shedload of money. Dad was overly impressed with Tim and couldn’t see past his bullshit. When the restaurant folded, Dad felt like an idiot. He was embarrassed. Tim never said sorry; he just walked away from it. Dad’s never forgiven him for that.’

‘Will you tell him about Angus?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t see what it would achieve, apart from reminding them of a horrible time.’

I debate whether to mention the visit that Angus paid me on Monday evening. I need to think what it means, in combination with this new piece of information, but I don’t believe his story about the supper party. His appearance on my doorstep was so outlandish.

‘When was the last time you spoke to Angus?’

‘God, I’ve no idea. Mum kept in touch with Lorna for a while, but it was all so painful that they kind of let the friendship slide.’ He shrugs. ‘Ten years or more? Sorry. I don’t remember.’

As I leave, he says, ‘Say hi to Cora from me. I was fond of her. I missed her when we moved out of London. The Ritchies were a big part of my childhood.’ He hesitates, then adds, ‘Are you and Nick married?’

‘We’ve just got engaged.’ I like the way that sounds.

‘Pity,’ Alex says. ‘Legally, you’d be on a stronger footing if you were. In the current circumstances, I mean.’ He sees my horrified expression and grimaces. ‘Sorry. I’m a lawyer. It’s the way my brain thinks.’

My answering laugh is dry; more cough than mirth.

As I walk away, it’s Angus who occupies my thoughts, not Alex. There were four reasons why he might have come to see me. He genuinely cared about Nick; he was suspicious that Nick was lying about why he was taking time off; that perhaps he’d taken an impromptu holiday; he knew Nick wasn’t there. His visit was a taunt or a threat of some kind. An implication that he’s watching us.

I smile. Things must be bad if I’m weaving conspiracy theories. Angus came because he was ‘just passing’, and he wished to show concern for an employee he values.

Of course, there were the mythical papers he said he had for Nick and which he didn’t leave behind.

‘Where’s Cora?’ I ask Tim.

‘She’s putting her feet up for an hour. It’s a strain, all this.’