I felt his posture sag and, despite the circumstances, I couldn’t entirely suppress the feeling that I wasn’t being the best version of myself right now. My determined froideur towards him, no matter how justified, didn’t feel like a particularly professional response to the situation.

‘What was your last project before moving?’ I asked, for no other reason than to avoid another awkward silence.

‘Converting light industrial units to residential. It was made more interesting by the fact that the building was listed – like your substation.’

At that, innate curiosity superseded my reluctance to engage. ‘Was that in London?’

‘No. I haven’t lived or worked in London for over ten years. Still got the accent, though,’ he said, picking up his drink, and sipping it unhurriedly, ‘which some people seem to find entertaining.’

Startled by the pointed add-on, my drink went down the wrong way and a choking fit ensued which drew the attention of the whole table, Ruby and Alison murmuring their concern, Luke letting out a delighted guffaw and Roger commencing thumping me with great enthusiasm between the shoulder blades.

‘I’m fine, Roger,’ I gasped, holding up a hand and twisting away from him. ‘It was a drop of wine, not a brick.’

‘Welcome,’ he said.

Alison extended her arm across the table towards me. ‘Can I get you some water, Edith?’

‘Thanks, but I’m good,’ I said, shaking my head and patting my chest. ‘Honestly.’

She nodded her acceptance and then returned to her conversation with a still-grinning Luke. Cameron, meanwhile, was calmly drinking beer and gazing around the room, showing neither concern nor amusement over the coughing incident. In fact, he didn’t even seem to have registered it. I looked at him and wrestled with whether to explain and apologise for the misunderstanding over his accent, or simply take advantage of the break in the conversation and move on.

I knew that in any other circumstances I would have laughed, apologised to him and started afresh. But the matter was rather complicated by the fact that he had recently groped a woman without her permission, and therefore saying sorry and starting afresh simply didn’t seem to be an option in this case.

‘I’ve forgotten what we were talking about,’ I said, ‘before I nearly asphyxiated.’

He hesitated before replying, and I wondered whether he was toying with pressing the mockney matter. I braced myself for the possibility.

‘Work,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes,’ I replied, grateful for his decision to move on, whilst simultaneously resenting the fact that I should feel grateful to him for anything. ‘You said that the listed building project wasn’t in London. So where was it?’

‘Mind if I switch seats with you?’