Ted and Julie sidle out of my office. I close the door and scrutinise the report. It concluded that the delay in releasing the funds was caused by the client. He thought he had sent an email to us to release the funds but it had bounced back. The email was nowhere in our system, not even in spam. So why did he bother to complain to the Law Society three years later, when his deal had come in anyway? He had posted on our website feedback form about the delay in funds being released, and I had left it up because if all our comments were too five-star and shiny they wouldn’t look real. But as it was such a minor incident I never worried about it. I need to get to the bottom of this. I need to talk to Andrew to understand why three years later he lodges a complaint that risks ruining my life.

I pick up the phone and dial his number. He answers.

‘Cunningham, Andrew.’ Voice is as brusque as ever. Resonant and clipped.

‘It’s Saffron Jackson here. If you’ve got time I’d love to meet up. Find out a bit about why you complained to the Law Society. We like our clients to feel satisfied. I wouldn’t like to disappoint a client like you again. I’d be most grateful for your time if you could spare me half an hour?’

‘Yes, Saffron. That’s fine. I guess I owe you an apology.’ He pauses. ‘I’m coming to a meeting near your offices this afternoon. Why don’t we meet up for a quick coffee and a sandwich.’

Tom Tom’s coffee bar. Andrew Cunningham is approaching. He hasn’t changed. He is about the same age as me, but I like to think he looks much older. He is wearing a pinstripe suit, with a pink shirt and red tie. Red and pink clash with his bold chestnut hair. His mouth gapes a little at the sides, as if he is perpetually about to speak or smile. I stand up and shake hands with him.

He shakes my hand with his bear of a handshake. ‘Good to see you again.’ He guffaws and then sits down opposite me.

I return his smile, tight-lipped.

We order. Falafel, salad and herbal tea for me. Bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich and chips, and black coffee, for my companion.

He leans forwards. ‘Come on, Saffron, what is it you want to know?’

I stir in my chair. ‘I want to know why you made a complaint about us to the Law Society, so many years after we acted for you.’ I pause and take a deep breath. ‘Why didn’t you just ring me to discuss it? I was hurt. I thought we got on rather well.’

‘It was Caprice Jackson who encouraged me. She put me up to it. She said you had to be stopped.’