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married, he told himself, we’ll always live in places like this, places where every room is warm and you can pad about naked, and people live their own lives next door to each other without knowing the names of their neighbours, and you can get almost anything you want by lifting a telephone. He looked at London sparkling beneath him and thought, this is my world, it belongs to me and I’m going to have it. The temptation was strong to go out, find in a bar the kind of middle-aged woman who responded to his smile as if she was a fire waiting for a match, and bring her back here. But he resisted it. Anyway, the setting was wrong. Women of that sort liked to give you things, to feel that they owned you, and they would be disconcerted to find him installed in such style and at such an address. He stayed in the flat from Thursday evening until Saturday morning, having meals sent up to him.
    Just after six o’clock she came into the Ritz Bar, looking slightly nervous, carrying a small suitcase, and wearing a rather unsuitable hat. He was pleased to see that she had abandoned the dark glasses. He commented on that. ‘I feel I’m seeing you properly.’
    She ordered gin and tonic and drank it in sips. ‘Was it a job to get away?’
    ‘Not too bad. Daddy hadn’t got anyone coming down this weekend. He wanted to know where I was going. I told him I was staying with a girl-friend. I fixed it with her too.’
    ‘Clever girl.’ He patted her hand. ‘For a minute on the phone I thought you didn’t want to see me.’
    ‘Tracey was there – the butler. I had to be careful.’
    After a second drink her manner was perceptibly easier. ‘It’s wonderful to get up to London. I feel so cooped up down there.’
    ‘I’m your good angel. I just wave my magic wand and say “Come up to London”, and it’s done.’
    She looked round. ‘It’s rather quiet here.’
    ‘Kind of traditional.’ He was worried that she might have preferred to meet somewhere else, Claridge’s or Hatchetts which he knew only as names. ‘I often use this as a meeting place because it’s so convenient.’
    ‘Of course.’ She fiddled with her handbag.
    ‘But let’s get out. Harry, my bill.’ He had taken the precaution of learning the waiter’s name. It was time to be masterful. He steered her up the stairs, got a taxi and kissed her ardently as soon as they were inside.
    ‘Are we going to your flat?’
    ‘Where else? I’m repaying hospitality.’ He laughed.
    She disengaged herself. ‘Tony, I don’t want you to think I do this with everybody.’
    ‘Darling Fiona.’
    ‘It’s because I like you. Very much. I don’t just want an affair for a weekend.’
    What do you know, he thought, I believe she’s going to propose to me. But the time wasn’t right for anything of that sort. He took her hand and kissed it, which seemed to cover the case.
    He watched when they crossed the entrance hall and went up in the lift to see if she was impressed, and there could be no doubt that she was although she tried not to show it. He was apologetic when he unlocked the door. ‘It’s not much like home, I’m afraid, but then I’m not here all the time.’
    Inside she exclaimed with pleasure, particularly at the view. They were on the fourteenth floor and quite a lot of London was spread out beneath them.
    ‘Yes, I do think it’s something rather special myself,’ he said with perfect truthfulness. ‘But of course you’ve got your own flat in Chelsea.’
    ‘My father has. I’m hardly ever there. Anyway, it hasn’t got a view like this.’
    He came up behind her, put his hands on her breasts. She turned round and her blue eyes questioned him. ‘I meant what I said, Tony. I’m playing for keeps.’
    Wonderful words. ‘So do I, darling. I’m playing for keeps too.’ In the bedroom later he asked with attempted casualness whether she had really meant it.
    ‘You know I did.’
    ‘Then what about meeting your father?’
    Silence. Her fingers