Page 151 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

In a large, open-plan loft apartment, Maggie is unpacking a vase. The shutters are thrown open and light is flooding in, along with a warm breeze, even though it’s the end of October. She’s surrounded by boxes, scrunched-up newspaper and packaging. George the cat is wrapping around her ankles, paws padding softly on the polished wooden floors, his fat ginger tail stroking her bare skin. She hears her phone ringing and puts down the vase to go to hunt for it. She finds it propped on her easel in the corner of the room. It’s Flick trying to video-call her. She must have finished work. She picks up.

‘So how’s the new apartment?’

Flick’s face pops up on the screen, her office in the background.

‘The light’s fabulous, perfect for painting.’

Sitting down in an armchair, the only piece of furniture she currently has apart from her bed, Maggie hugs her knees to her chest. She’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt and still has the remnants of her summer tan.

‘And what about Lisbon? Are you liking it?’

‘I haven’t explored properly yet. The shipping company only delivered my boxes a few days ago, so I’ve been too busy moving in . . .’

A lot has happened since she walked into the watchmaker’s in London a few months ago. When just an ordinary day became an extraordinary one, with the astonishing discovery that she was in possession of a rare and valuable watch. One that she could never hope to wear as she could never afford to insure it, she soon realized. Her excitement turned quickly to disappointment and then fear as the experts warned her about the rise in luxury watch theft and threat of violent muggings. Meaning her dad’s watch would have to be kept in a safe deposit box in a darkened bank vault.

And frankly, what was the point of that?

Which is why, after days spent talking things over with George, who had known her dad and met her brother, she made the difficult decision to put it up for auction. But while it was difficult, she also knew it was for the best. The watch had huge sentimental value. It was her dad’s and his dad’s before him, and as she sat with the expert at Sotheby’s and wore it on her wrist for the last time, she thought about her dad and all the times she’d seen him wearing it – sleeves rolled up, dancing at parties; in a polo shirt playing golf; pushing his narrowboat through the locks; squashed in his lap as a child with her brother; holding his hand in the hospice.

But, as George gently reminded her, the watch wasn’t her dad. He also, less gently, reminded her of the times they’d watched Antiques Roadshow together, and how whenever anyone discovered their family heirloom was worth a fortune, her dad would bellow at the TV, ‘Sod the sentimental value, take the money!’ Which made her laugh and the decision much easier.

It was sold to the highest bidder for a sum she couldn’t quite believe: enough for a large deposit to buy a new flat somewhere, give her some savings, and set up a memorial scholarship in her brother’s name, to an undergraduate of medicine at his old university undergoing financial need. Charlie never got to be a doctor but this way his legacy would live on. And yet, after a few weeks living with George in London, looking at Rightmove, Maggie realized she wanted a change. A bigger change. The trip around Europe had opened her eyes and broadened her horizons.

Why not try somewhere new? So, after a few weeks researching visas and logistics, she made the crazy decision to move to Lisbon. But like Flick always said, it depends how you define crazy. They’d spent a few hours there after the cruise ship had docked and she liked what she saw so she took a leap. What’s that saying, take a leap and the net will appear? And it had appeared in the shape of a year-long lease on a lovely light-filled apartment with a view across the rooftops towards the ocean.

‘How about you?’ she asks Flick, throwing the question back. ‘Is London and the new job everything you ever dreamed of?’

‘Yeah, and more.’

Sitting at her desk in the busy newsroom, Flick grins broadly. At last she feels like a real journalist. All around there is activity and chatter. A buzzing workplace, where news is breaking and important stories are being investigated, it’s a far cry from the sleepy offices of The Local Echo and Tupperware Tony with his controversial sandwich fillings, and she couldn’t be happier.

‘I’ve got some news.’

‘Don’t tell me, you’ve made the front page again?’

After her exclusive article about the romance fraudster made headlines and got picked up by the national press, Flick was offered a job working for a major newspaper in London. It was the big break she’d always dreamed of and Seymour, her editor, gave her a glowing reference to take with her. Despite his initial reservations, her feature had put The Local Echo on the map; he was going to miss her enthusiasm and tenacity.

Not that he told her, of course. He was a Yorkshireman and didn’t do emotions. It was just a bit of grit in his eye, that’s all.

Colin was over the moon; he’d miss her, but he knew how much she wanted this. Even Rory was happy for her. When he heard the news, he came to the pub to offer his congratulations. He’d seemingly bounced back from having his marriage proposal turned down, and was now dating Kate, who he’d met in Accounts. ‘She’s nothing like you,’ he told her cheerfully, ‘she doesn’t want to be something she’s not.’ Which was actually the nicest back-handed compliment Rory could pay, thought Flick, as it confirmed she too didn’t want to be something she wasn’t either, and that was Rory’s wife.

‘Ha ha, no, not yet,’ laughs Flick, turning off her desktop and reaching for her jacket on the back of her chair. ‘But I have been asked to go on BBC’s Woman’s Hour to talk about romance fraudsters, ahead of his court appearance next month.’

It was finally happening. After being arrested in Portugal and extradited back to the UK, Stratin was now in custody, awaiting trial. A substantial prison sentence seemed likely, and there was even a chance Maggie might get some of her savings back. Police raided a lock-up being rented by him and found luxury vehicles and designer goods worth close to a quarter of a million pounds. A police spokesperson, who described Stratin as ‘a complete fantasist who constructed a web of lies and showed no remorse’, says money doesn’t appear to have been the only motivating factor and his crimes were committed over decades. Since news of his arrest, and Flick’s subsequent article, several other women had come forward and given evidence against him. Flick was right all along. Maggie wasn’t his only victim.

But she was certainly going to be his last.

‘Wow, that’s wonderful, well done,’ she says now in admiration.

Maggie is so proud of Flick. She’s handled everything with a maturity beyond her years. Not only has she bravely exposed her biological father to be a serial fraudster, but when he granted her an interview in prison, she used it solely to gain information that would help protect others.

‘The captain was right, you’re a prestigious journalist now. I’ll be seeing you on Newsnight next.’

Flick smiles, seemingly embarrassed by her friend’s praise. ‘You know I owe it all to you. If you hadn’t come with me . . .’

‘Rubbish. You did this.’

Maggie breaks off to scoop up George, who is meowing by her feet, and places him in her lap. ‘By the way, I meant to ask, are you OK for money?’