‘I’ll send you a contract, Cyrus.’

Cy winched. ‘Do that, Cliff, and be sure to keep me posted regularly. We haven’t got a lot of time.’

I followed Claudia out of the room. We both said our goodbyes to Janine and I pressed the button for the lift.

‘I walked here from the Cross,’ I said. ‘My car’s back there.’

‘I like walking, Cliff. We can go through the park. We could sit and talk there for a bit. I’m dying for a cigarette.’

We rode the lift in silence. In the confined space I could smell her perfume. I had no idea what it was but I liked it and hoped I wasn’t smelling of sweat. The streets were quieter and the people in the park had thinned out. She walked with a long, easy stride; she had the defined calf muscles you see in dancers and sprinters. And Tina Turner. Good shoulders. She headed for a bench in the shade, sat and reached into her bag. Out came a packet of Salem menthol filters. Back in my smoking days I switched from roll-your-owns to Salems when I had a cold. She shook two cigarettes up and offered me the pack. I took one and she lit us up with a gold lighter. I took a deep draw. The cigarette tasted good.

‘You’re not a smoker,’ she said.

‘I gave up ten years ago.’

She reached out, took the cigarette from me, dropped it on the ground and put her foot on it. ‘Don’t be an idiot. After ten years you’ve got your virginity back.’

I laughed. ‘You’re right, Claudia. Tell me about the other bits and pieces of the case against you.’

She looked out at the trees and grass and flowers and the few people sharing the space with us. The breeze was warm and I could smell the harbour. She puffed on the cigarette until it was half gone and then dealt with it the way she had before. I realised that we were sitting close together. Our shoulders were almost touching and I could see the fine dark down that ran below her hairline towards the corner of her jaw. I wanted to touch it and rubbed both sweaty hands together instead.