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amusement value alone it would be so worth it.’ He grinned.
    I stopped packing and turned to appraise the man who had tricked me out of my virginity. Maybe he had changed? Perhaps I was looking at a Born-again Human Being. I knew for sure there was a kind side to the man. When we were dating he never passed a woman with a pushchair without helping her up or down the stairs. He’d emptied his wallet for beggars on numerous occasions. And I felt sure there’d been a sponsored goat in a village in Africa somewhere. ‘Really? You’d do that? Pay my Chambers rent until I get on my feet again?’
    ‘Yes . . . If you’ll agree to go out with me.’
    I placed my hands over my ears. ‘Hear no evil, see no evil, date no evil.’
    ‘Contrary to popular feminist belief, not all men are hideous bastards, Matilda.’
    ‘Yes, you’re right. Some of them are dead.’
    ‘Seeing you again yesterday morning – well, it really stirred me. You broke up with me at Oxford before we even got started.’
    ‘Well, that’s because you’d obviously
started
with so many others. I gave you my heart, not to mention other parts of my anatomy, only to discover that you were also sleeping with a professor and two professors’ wives, while also shacked up with a gym-junkie aerobics instructress. Which reminds me, have you ever noticed that I’m not your type? I didn’t make it to the gym today. That makes it, oh, ten years in a row.’
    Jack gave the kind of cavalier, lusty laugh last heard in a swash-buckling Errol Flynn movie. ‘You are absolutely my type, Tilly. Curvaceous, clever, crinkly-eyed . . . did I mention curvaceous? Won’t you give me a second chance? We were young. I was a hot-blooded male.’ He twinkled. ‘Can I help it if women fall at my feet?’
    ‘Only when you get them drunk first . . . You led me on and lied to me.’
    ‘I was just pandering to the macho, immature lad-culture of the time.’
    ‘Hang on a moment while Jack Cassidy passes the buck. You are a World-class Champion Buck-passer, you really are. Why are you staring at me like that?’
    Jack was giving me a curious look – a look I couldn’t quite read. Could it be a look of remorse, I wondered, astounded.
    ‘I’m just remembering you naked . . .’
    ‘And I’m remembering you with scruples. I suppose a scruple would be out of the question, Jack Cassidy? By the way, here are your eyeballs. I found them in my cleavage.’
    ‘You’re judging me so harshly that you’re starting to look underdressed without a guillotine and some Madame Defarge knitting needles. I’m not a bad person, Tilly. I give to charity. I help old ladies across the street. I open doors for women . . .’
    ‘It may have escaped your notice, Jack, but women no longer want men to give us their seats on the bus. We want them to give us their seats on the board. We want positions of authority.’
    ‘I seem to remember your favourite position. Lying back against a satin pillow while I kiss you slowly from top to toe . . .’
    ‘Do you know my favourite position, Jack?’
    ‘Tell me. I’m intrigued . . .’ he positively purred.
    ‘Supreme Court Judge. I fully intend to make it to the top, you know.’
    Jack couldn’t disguise his amusement. He guffawed. The full throwback-of-the-head snort. ‘If only that train of thought had an engine . . . You see? This is why I like you. You make me laugh so much. Which is why I think we could be so good together. I’m flying off to Dubai next week on a lucrative arbitration case. Why don’t you come with me? You could act as my junior.’
    ‘How tempting. A hot, sweltering city . . . standing on the edge of a cultural desert. What happened to you, Jack? You had so much potential. Yet you’ve ended up working for oil barons and despots.’
    ‘Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off right now. I’m still good at deal-making, though. Join my Chambers and