‘Here’s to BPC. Long may we survive,’ I say as I raise my glass.

We clink champagne flutes, Julie, Ted and I.

‘Thank you for being patient about last month’s salary. You’ve both been so understanding,’ I say.

Julie smiles her clean-edged smile. ‘It’s been worth it, Saffron. I love our team. I love my job. I love our trust. Our friendship.’

And my stomach tightens. I should have trusted her more. I should have believed everything she said about Miles and Aiden. My birthday necklace is hidden in a drawer, I can’t bear to wear it, after the way I behaved.

‘And I love our team too. Saffron, we’ve been together since we were teenagers,’ Ted says enthusiastically.

I pull my thoughts away from the necklace that I do not deserve to own. I smile inside. Ted and I have been friends almost forever. We were at the same school, same class, same set for English and Maths. We used to walk home together, winding our way along the High Street. Stopping to buy sweets. Browsing in shop windows. We would turn left down the passageway, past the cricket club, towards the housing development where we both lived.

The narrow passageway was lined with gnarled trees, trunks bent like arthritic fingers. The canopy of leaves above entwined together. That was where we shared our hopes and fears. Our secrets. Such close friends, our peer group assumed we were a couple. But we weren’t. We told everyone we were cousins. They seemed to need an explanation for our relationship.

This evening, in the cocktail bar at the RAC Club, Ted’s eyes shine into mine.

‘I told you it would be all right, but you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘I’ll believe everything you both say from now on, I promise.’

We finish our champagne and leave the bar, stopping in the grand hallway of the RAC Club to admire the Christmas tree, stretching up into the stone rotunda above us, a Pantheon-like structure with a giant oval window in its dome. Its elegance and beauty fill me with awe every time I visit, and I have been a member of this club for many years. But it never looks as beautiful as it does in December with a Christmas tree fit for royalty filling it.

We move away, across opulent patterned carpet towards the Brooklands Room, where more Edwardian elegance opens out in front of us. Arched windows stretch from floor to ceiling. Panelling, paintings, pillars, livened up with modern furniture. A masterpiece of simplicity and sophistication.

A waiter leads us to a table by a marble pillar. It doesn’t take us long to order and water and wine arrive promptly. Not much later, our starters are placed gently in front of us. Raw courgette and toasted hazelnut salad for me. Smoked salmon for Julie. Chicken liver parfait for Ted.

‘We still need another big client,’ I say between mouthfuls.