I realised I had two choices: Go into a rather lame explanation about playing pyjama party games and only knocking on his door as a dare. Or simply brazen it out.
I glanced down at my ample cleavage spilling over the top of my coat and reminded myself that the old man could not possibly know that beneath the tweed, skimpy lingerie attempted to cover my modesty.
My mind began to spin – reacquaint? I was missing something. Perhaps Jacob was a long lost one-night stand of mine. I’d had a few. Sometimes leaving before dawn and too inebriated to remember a face.
As I went to walk out the room in just my underwear Anne grabbed my checked, knee length tweed and threw it at me. “For goodness sake Gen. The last thing we want is Mr Roberts having a heart attack.”