‘Piccadilly.’ She could tell from his breathing that he was walking briskly. He still walked like a soldier: shoulders back, chest out, chin up, straight arms. You could take the man out of the military . . . ‘Just en route to drinks at the Reform. Heatherwick’s back in town.’

‘Ah, Charlie, how is he? Still living with tribes in the Andes?’ She had only met the man himself once before on a one-night layover between St Petersburg and Panama, but Stephen had regaled her many times with tales of their time in the field together, playing poker inside tanks and singing along rugby songs to his pocket harmonica. When Charlie had decided not to renew his commission after a particularly gruelling assignment in Helmand Province, Stephen had been devastated. Was it coincidence he himself had left after the next tour of duty? He had said it was because he had met her by then and wanted to settle down to a normal life, but sometimes she wondered if the catalyst hadn’t been the prospect of a new life with her so much as losing his old one with Charlie.

‘Apparently so. I’ve bought him a tie in case he’s forgotten how to dress properly.’

‘He’s ex-Sandhurst,’ she said drily. ‘That’s impossible. I bet he polishes his fishing spear to a shine.’ She lapsed into silence, listening to the rapid beat of his shoes on the pavement. It was his upright bearing that had first caught her eye, when they met. It seemed so . . . reassuring to meet a man who held his head that high, as though nothing the world could ever throw at him would make him duck or waver.

Behind her, in the background, music played softly through the speaker system.

‘Where are you? What are you up to?’ She could hear the frown in his voice.

‘Chilling in the apartment. I’m only just back.’

‘Decent place?’

‘Decent,’ she agreed, blind to the mushroom silk curtains and minimal Armani furniture.

‘Good. And how was today?’ She knew what he really meant was, have you concluded your business there?

‘Fine. I just caught up with another client this morning and popped into the bank’s offices for a quick meeting this afternoon. The real work starts tomorrow.’

She heard him tut. ‘Just so long as you remember you need to be back by Friday, Charlotte.’

The dinner wasn’t till Saturday but she knew better than to point out that detail. Friday was her deadline. He wanted her back in London by then, regardless of anything else. ‘I will be.’

‘It’s a bloody nonsense them sending you away on a project at a time like this.’

‘I’ll be back, don’t worry.’ She heard him ‘harumph’. He was never any good on his own. ‘What are you doing for dinner? There’s some lamb in the fridge.’

‘I’ll play it by ear with Charlie boy. See if he fancies going on somewhere. I should imagine he’s in dire need of a bloody steak after all those agave leaves.’