‘Are there any areas of work you’d like to discuss?’ he asked, stopping at my desk as he left Alison’s office. ‘I’ve got a few and I thought maybe we could talk them through over lunch today or tomorrow.’

‘Today would work best,’ I replied quickly, pouncing on the opportunity of company and distraction, and reaching for my coat and bag.

‘What? Right now?’ he said, apparently a little taken aback by my speedy uptake of his offer.

‘Sure, if you like,’ I replied, standing up.

‘But I have to send an email first.’ He looked back towards his desk.

‘No problem, I’ll go and call the lift,’ I smiled and, keen to be gone as soon as possible, I headed for the door.

As I took my seat in the soulless cafe, with some delayed but undeniable nerves, it was hard to believe that just a few weeks had gone by since Luke and I had sat at the very same blue Formica-topped table and I had discovered that Cameron Grange was an innocent man. It felt like a lifetime ago.

‘Luke told me that you come here a lot,’ said Cameron, surveying the deserted space with an obvious degree of not unreasonable confusion. He frowned down at the wholemeal sandwich he had chosen from the meagre selection on offer. It appeared to have been run over.

‘Yes, I really, really like it here,’ I said loudly, smiling over my shoulder at the cashier. She was the same woman who had served Luke and me, and had greeted me with a look of contemptuous recognition on entry. She now stared stonily at us for a second or two before returning to chewing her nails.

I sighed and turned back to Cameron. I hadn’t been over the moon when he had suggested the cafe for lunch, but thanks to Luke he’d seemed very keen to give it a whirl and, bearing in mind the current fragile state of our relationship, I hadn’t wanted to argue the point – or any point, for that matter.

‘We tend to come here more for the privacy of the place,’ I said, lowering my voice and leaning across the table towards him, ‘rather than for the food or the atmosphere. There’s never really anyone else in here.’

‘No kidding,’ he said, picking up half of his flattened sandwich and watching as its ends drooped slowly into an upside-down smile.

‘We can go somewhere else, if you like,’ I said quietly, although clearly not quietly enough for the bat-eared cashier, as a loud tut and the word dickheads reached us from the counter.

I winced and Cameron smiled, not at me, but over my shoulder at our accuser. ‘Here is just fine,’ he said, returning his attention to the sandwich and biting into it.