‘You,’ she says at last. The man, Frank Barker, is looking equally stunned. He glances down at the scarf and then back to Ruth as if wondering how the two came to be in the same room. ‘My God,’ he says. ‘It was you …’ Phil, who has been looking rather put-out (he doesn’t approve of tension unless he is the cause of it), says suddenly, ‘Oh I see! Ruth – you were the woman driver. That’s priceless.’ ‘It was entirely my fault,’ says Frank. ‘Sue him, Ruth,’ says the woman, who has remained seated, her face impassive. ‘Sue him for every penny he’s got.’ ‘It’s no big deal,’ says Ruth, sitting down at the conference table. ‘I’m sorry I’m late.’ ‘You had to drop your daughter off,’ says Frank. ‘How is she?’ ‘Fine,’ says Ruth shortly. She doesn’t like the way that Phil is still chuckling and the woman (what was her name? Danielle something) is still staring at her. ‘Here,’ Frank pulls out a chair. ‘Sit down. I’ll get you some coffee.’ Ruth sees a cafetiere and real china cups laid out on a tray.
