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down on the table. He waited for a second, then picked it up. That, as far as he could judge, was that.
    ‘You were at the meeting,’ Cassie said; and then she frowned, as if she hadn’t meant to say it.
    ‘That’s right,’ Colin replied. ‘I got there late, as usual. Forgot about it, actually.’
    ‘Oh. Well, you didn’t miss an awful lot.’
    Surreal, Colin thought. ‘It’d probably have all been over my head anyway,’ he heard himself say. ‘I’m pretty much the lowest form of life at H&F’
    ‘Everyone’s got to start somewhere,’ she replied.
    ‘That’s right,’ he said. He felt an unaccountable urge to tell her that in fact he was a managing director in disguise, just pretending to be an underachieving gofer, but he managed to repress it. ‘That’s what Dad always says. So,’ he went on, ‘have you been doing this job long?’
    ‘Six months,’ she replied. ‘Before that I was with Mortimers, in Fleet Street.’
    ‘Oh, right.’ Trying to sound suitably impressed; failing. Who the hell were Mortimers? he wondered idly. ‘Is it better here, or—?’
    Cassie shrugged. ‘It’s different,’ she said. ‘Here it’s more -traditional.’ She sounded as though she was choosing her adjectives carefully; completely wasted on him, of course. ‘You’ve been clients of ours for yonks, haven’t you?’
    ‘I think so,’ Colin replied, as he realised that his left foot had gone to sleep. All he needed, really. ‘Well, thanks for seeing me.’
    ‘No problem.’
    ‘I’ll be going, then,’ he said, not even trying to move. ‘I expect you’re very busy,’ he added.
    ‘Oh, about normal.’ She frowned. ‘Are you all right?’
    He sighed. ‘Pins and needles,’ he said. ‘In my foot.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘I’ll be all right,’ he said, and shifted his weight. He managed not to scream.
    ‘You’d better sit down for a bit.’
    ‘Yes. Well, no, actually, I can’t move.’
    Cassie didn’t laugh. ‘Try rubbing it.’
    He looked up sharply at her, not really knowing why. ‘It’s getting better, actually,’ he said. ‘There, I can put my weight on it. Sorry about that.’
    ‘Oh, that’s all right—’ She stopped suddenly, and stared at him. Maybe three seconds; which can be a long time, under the right circumstances. ‘It can really hurt, can’t it?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Pins and needles.’
    ‘It’s all gone now,’ Colin said, exaggerating. ‘Right, well, I’ll tell Dad to expect a letter from you. Thanks again.’
    ‘All part of the service.’
    Cassie opened the door for him. Through it he could see the lovely receptionist, looking daggers at them both. Feeling murderously self-conscious, he crossed the front office, trying very hard not to limp.
    As soon as he was out in the street, the pain disappeared completely. He stopped and looked back at the door, then crossed the road. There was a pub quite close by. He lunged toward it like a sprinter clinching a world record.
    Two-thirds of a pint later, Colin felt sufficiently composed to rally his thoughts. Something had happened in there, something on a par with Newton’s apple or Archimedes’ bath; because of it, the world was about to change. Buggered if he knew what, though.
    He finished his beer and got another. There was one obvious possibility, but he was fairly sure that he could cross it off the list of possibilities straight away. He’d fallen in love before - how many times? Six? Narrow the search parameters; he’d fallen in love at first sight before, twice. Match not found; the symptoms had been different. Now, technically this wasn’t first sight, since he’d seen Cassie before, at the meeting. It still didn’t compute. It was more like something else—
    Deja vu? He wasn’t a hundred per cent sure what that meant, but what he understood by the term was an uncanny feeling that you’re replaying something that’s happened to you before. That was closer to it, but not the whole story, not by a long way. Pause to