‘That’s right. With no obligation on either side. If you don’t get along, all bets are off with no harm done.’

Just stating it so matter-of-factly made me see a whole minefield. No obligation, the bet’s off, no harm done, can mean very different things to different people.

He selected one of the photos and put it on my desk as if he was glad to be rid of it. It was a full-length shot of an extremely attractive woman. She was slim and dark, provocatively posed in a tight dress that showed an impressive length of shapely leg.

Forrest held the other photo as though it was fragile or so light it might float away. He pointed to the photo on the desk.

‘I met her once. You don’t have to use your real names. I didn’t use mine. She said her name was Miranda but it probably wasn’t. She said she was an actress.’

‘It didn’t take?’

‘She was awful. Very conceited and aggressive. Tried to. . run everything. It was a disaster and I couldn’t get away quick enough.’

It was mid-October and getting warm outside. He was dressed a bit too heavily in the leather jacket but it was the memory of his meeting with Miranda that was making him sweat. He transferred the photo to his left hand and rubbed his fist across his damp forehead.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Like I say, it was awful. . in every way. I thought that was it and I went back online, looking, and I found Jane. We met and hit it off right away. She’s terrific. She’s very smart, much smarter than me, but she somehow makes me feel smarter than I am, better than I am, if you can understand that.’

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could. ‘A good feeling.’

‘The best. But this other one, she won’t leave me alone. She bombards me with text messages and emails. She’s turned up a few times at places where I’ve been. I’ve no idea how she finds out my movements. I get the feeling that I’m being followed sometimes, but that might just be paranoia-isn’t that what they call it?’