I turned in my chair, reaching for her arm, but she shook her head and smiled. ‘I’m going to the loo and then I’ll get us another drink on the way back. Call your cousin.’ And with that, she turned and made her way to the back of the bar.

I sat motionless, gazing after her and thinking about everything she’d said. There was a lot to take in, but one thing was clear: sextension or no sextension, Cameron Grange was a grade-A shit. OK, so Luke, especially under the influence of alcohol, might easily fail to grasp the nuances of a situation, but Ruby was an intelligent, clear-thinking, determined woman, well used to dealing with male attention. She was certainly not someone who would mistake accidental contact in a confined space for workplace harassment.

A text from Giles interrupted my miserable train of thought and, without pausing to read it, I picked up my phone and called him.

‘Edie!’ His greeting was as deafeningly exuberant as ever. ‘How marvellous of you to call me back.’

I paused to lower the speaker volume before continuing the conversation. ‘Hi, Giles. Sorry I didn’t call earlier but the day ran away with me a bit. Can you talk now? Are you at home?’ I imagined him sitting in his favourite armchair, slippers on, feet up and Anthony, his small, scruffy and incurably smelly rescue dog, curled up on his lap. It was Giles’s favourite way to spend a Friday evening and I suddenly wished that I was there with him, rather than in a busy wine bar, learning unpleasant and upsetting facts about my new work colleague.

‘I wish I was,’ said Giles, sighing. ‘But sadly, I’m not at home at all. I’m actually at Bristol airport.’

‘Really?’ I said in surprise, checking my watch. ‘What are you doing there? I didn’t know you were going away.’

‘Me neither, and that’s precisely why I’m calling you, Edie. Do you have time to listen to the tale, or shall I just cut to the chase?’

I leaned to one side, looking over my shoulder towards the busy bar. There was no sign of Ruby and she would have to queue for drinks when she reappeared. ‘Tell me the tale,’ I said.

‘Right, well, first things first. Do you remember my old Eton chum, Tubby Bothwell?’

‘Er…’ I thought for a moment. ‘Was he the guy who drank a pint of Bailey’s at your birthday party last year?’

‘Yes! That’s him! You do have such a remarkable memory for names and faces.’

‘Hmm,’ I said, ‘he was kind of hard to forget. He was carried out unconscious, wasn’t he?’

Giles chuckled. ‘He was, he was. Dear old Tubby. Always such good fun, with his gung-ho approach to life.’