Her few pieces of jewellery were poorly chosen and didn’t really go well together. She should wear gold, he decided. Not delicate pieces, but powerful, to go with her aura of quiet strength. He would enjoy draping her with gold.

The thought reminded him of the necklace, but he was in a good humour now, and bore her no ill will. If anything, their spat had been useful in breaking the ice.

Dancing On Line was a very modern musical, a satire about the internet, dry, witty, with good tunes and sharp dancers. They both enjoyed it, and left the theatre in a charity with one another. The rain had stopped, and the cab he’d ordered was waiting.

‘I know a small restaurant where they do the best food in London,’ he said.

He took her to a place that she, a Londoner, had never heard of. Slightly to her surprise it was French, not Italian, but then she realised that surprise was the name of the game. If he really was planning an outrageous suggestion then it made sense for him to confuse her a little first.

‘Perhaps I should have asked if you like French food,’ he said when they had seated themselves at a quiet corner table.

‘I like it almost as much as Italian,’ she said, speaking in French. It might be showing off but she felt that flying all her flags would be a good idea.

‘Of course you’re a cosmopolitan,’ he said. ‘In your line of work you’d have to be. Spanish?’

‘Uh-uh! Plus Greek and Latin.’

‘Modern Greek or classical?’

‘Both of course,’ she said, contriving to sound faintly shocked.

‘Of course.’ He smiled faintly and inclined his head in respect.

The food really was the best. Harriet notched up a mark to him. He was an excellent host, consulting her wishes while making suggestions that didn’t pressure her. She let him pick the wine, and his choice exactly suited her.