And some sell and won’t share, I thought, but I was encouraged by his attitude. I wasn’t sure that his plan was feasible in all its details but it had a humanitarian and sincere ring to it that persuaded me.

I’d prepared for the meeting by bringing my standard contract form; he signed it and wrote a cheque giving me a retainer of two thousand five hundred dollars against a daily rate of three hundred and fifty plus expenses, to be reviewed when the retainer was expended. I reserved the right to vary the daily rate upwards to a maximum of two and half times if I had to hire help, but the retainer would only be defrayed by the standard daily rate. He signed almost without reading it and I did the same — he because he was worried and stressed, me because I was embarrassed. The complicated contract had been drawn up by my accountant who’d told me that post the GST everything was going to get tougher and I had to have an edge. His edge was his higher fee for preparing my tax return.

Price had read the books. He’d come equipped with passport photographs of his wife and daughter and one of Jason dressed for golf and holding a trophy of some kind. He gave me his card which proclaimed him to be Martin (Marty) S. Price, Executive Director of High Flier Consultants Pty Ltd. The card carried his business phone number, his mobile number and his email address. If he thought a man who arranged business meetings in coffee bars probably didn’t have a computerised office, he didn’t comment.

Sammy appeared to have the cheekbones, mouth, eyes and hair for the job, and if her expression was a bit vacant-looking that probably didn’t hurt any. It’s never surprised me that models and racing car drivers seem to get together so often. Danni favoured her father; she was dark with strong features that missed prettiness but hit attractive dead centre — strong jaw, full mouth, straight nose.