Half an hour later, we locked up and walked together round the corner to Roger’s favourite restaurant, The Garter. It was during the dessert course that the conversation took a strange turn.

‘Crystal’s left me,’ he announced.

Up to that point we’d shared meaningless chit-chat about the weather, ski trips and the Christmas holidays.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. What else was there to say? To share emotional upheavals with a boss old enough to be one’s father didn’t rest easy.

‘I think it’s been on the cards for some time but don’t all men stick their heads in the sand until it’s too late?’ At this point he reached across for the wine and topped us all up.

‘I don’t know what to say. Is there someone else?’ Oliver carried on eating, voicing mock concern. He stuffed the remaining mince pies into his mouth, while waiting for Roger to continue.

‘I don’t think Crystal has ever really wanted me. Not in the intimate sense.’

We watched Roger, lost in tortured private thoughts. He sipped his wine, swilling and tasting the smooth claret.

Oliver raised his eyebrows in my direction, a faint smirk on his lips, when Roger’s eyes were averted. I didn’t respond. I waited as Roger took us back twenty years.

‘I think if Crystal had ever needed me with the same desperation I felt, I wouldn’t have wanted her so badly.’

If Roger was a connoisseur of fine wines, a business man of repute, albeit with integral family connections, he was also an emotional mess. Crystal had been the belle of the coming-out season and he had learnt the value of patience and commitment as she flitted between paramours. He had fallen completely in love.

Oliver and I watched in horror as our greying sophisticated payer of salaries shrank before our very eyes as he relived the past. For a brief moment I forgot about Mitch as I became enrapt in someone else’s love story.

When Roger finally excused himself and headed off to the toilets, I’d a sudden and illogical sense of foreboding. Perhaps I was too easy? Perhaps Mitch should be made to work harder and I should play the jealousy card, the ‘out with friends’ ploy. But it all seemed so senseless. We wanted to be together; together forever. Or that’s what I thought.

‘Shit,’ said Oliver. ‘What can you say? It’s so embarrassing. Poor old sod. I wonder if Crystal’s found herself a toy boy.’

‘I feel sorry for him.’

‘I wouldn’t worry. He’s got money. He’ll get over it.’

It was a good twenty minutes before Roger returned for coffee, having regained composure. Stiff upper lip would be his mantra. A faint smell of cigarette smoke trailed in his wake.

After coffee, he announced he was catching the early train home to Guildford.