It was starting to rain and the drops felt cold and good on my face.

“Most of it,” I said. “Some of it’s the sort of thing that must have happened. The rest of it is what I tell myself in the middle of the night.

“After he had put the phone down on Milena he sat for a while, pondering. Then he went into Joe’s office to ask him about it, but Joe still wasn’t there and he wasn’t answering his mobile. So instead he called up Marjorie Sutton’s files and went through them carefully. After he’d done that he rang her and made an appointment to see her the following day. He said it was urgent.

“He was going to go home after that. He’d promised me that we’d have a proper evening together. I was going to make risotto and he was going to buy a good bottle of red wine. We would make love and then have a meal together. But as he was preparing to leave the phone rang and it was Joe, saying something odd had just happened concerning Marjorie Sutton and they needed to talk. Greg was relieved to get the call: in spite of himself, he’d been worried about those signatures. He told Joe he’d been trying to reach him about the same subject, but perhaps they could do it the next day. He had a date with his wife. Joe insisted. He said it wouldn’t take long, could Greg pick him up at King’s Cross?

“Greg rang me. He said, ‘Ellie, I know I said I’d be home early, but I’m going to be a bit delayed. I’m really sorry.’

“And I said, ‘Fuck, Greg, you promised.’

“And he replied, ‘I know, I know, but something’s come up.’

“And I said, ‘Something always comes up.’

“‘I’ll explain later,’ he said. ‘I can’t talk now, Ell.’