I look around for support and see Rory gazing blankly at me.

“It all sounds a bit technical for me,” he says with a little laugh. “Bit complicated.”

“OK, let’s put it another way,” I say quickly. “Let’s…” I close my eyes, searching for inspiration. “Let’s… suppose I’m in a clothes shop!” I open my eyes again. “I’m in a clothes shop, and I’ve chosen a wonderful cashmere Nicole Farhi coat. OK?”

“OK,” says Rory cautiously.

“I love Nicole Farhi!” says Emma, perking up. “Beautiful knitwear.”

“Exactly,” I say. “OK, so imagine I’m standing in a checkout queue, minding my own business, when a sales assistant comes up to me and says, ‘Why not buy this other coat instead? It’s better quality – and I’ll throw in a free bottle of perfume.’ I’ve got no reason to distrust the sales assistant, so I think, Wonderful, and I buy the other coat.”

“Right.” says Rory, nodding. “With you so far.”

“But when I get outside,” I say carefully, “I discover that this other coat isn’t Nicole Farhi and isn’t real cashmere. I go back in – and the shop won’t give me a refund.”

“You were ripped off!” exclaims Rory, as though he’s just discovered gravity.

“Exactly,” I say. “I was ripped off. And the point is, so were thousands of Flagstaff Life customers. They were persuaded out of their original choice of investment, into a fund which left them £.20,000 worse off.” I pause, marshaling my thoughts. “Perhaps Flagstaff Life didn’t break the law. Perhaps they didn’t contravene any regulations. But there’s a natural justice in this world, and they didn’t just break that, they shattered it. Those customers deserved that windfall. They were loyal, long-standing customers, and they deserved it. And if you’re honest, Luke Brandon, you know they deserved it.”

I finish my speech breathlessly and look at Luke. He’s staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face – and in spite of myself, I feel my stomach clench with nerves. I swallow, and try to shift my vision away from his – but somehow I can’t move my head. It’s as though our eyes are glued together.

“Luke?” says Emma. “Do you have a response to Rebecca’s point?”

Luke doesn’t respond. He’s staring at me, and I’m staring back, feeling my heart thump like a rabbit.

“Luke?” repeats Emma slightly impatiently. “Do you have–”

“Yes,” says Luke. “Yes I do. Rebecca–” He shakes his head, smiling to himself, then looks up again at me. “Rebecca, you’re right.”

There’s a sudden still silence around the studio.

I open my mouth, but I can’t make a sound.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rory and Emma glancing at each other puzzledly.

“Sorry, Luke,” says Emma. “Do you mean–”

“She’s right,” says Luke, and gives a shrug. “Rebecca’s absolutely right.” He reaches for his glass of water, leans back in his sofa, and takes a sip. “If you want my honest opinion, those customers deserved that windfall. I very much wish they had received it.”

He looks up at me, and he’s wearing that same apologetic expression he had in the corridor. This can’t be happening. Luke’s agreeing with me. How can he be agreeing with me?

“I see,” says Emma, sounding a bit affronted. "So, you’ve changed your position, then?”

There’s a pause, while Luke stares thoughtfully into the glass of water. Then he looks up and says, “My company is employed by Flagstaff Life to maintain their public profile. But that doesn’t mean that I personally agree with everything they do – or even that I know about it.” He pauses. “To tell you the truth, I had no idea any of this was going on until I read about it Rebecca’s article in The Daily World. Which, by the way was а fine piece of investigative journalism,” he adds, nodding to me. “Congratulations.”

I stare back helplessly, unable even to mutter “Thank you.” I’ve never felt so wrong-footed in all my life. I want to stop and bury my head in my hands and think all of this through slowly and carefully – but I can’t, I’m on live television. I’m being watched by 2.5 million people, all around the country.

I hope my legs look OK.

“If I were a Flagstaff customer and this had happened to me, I’d be very angry,” Luke continues. “Тhere is such a thing as customer loyalty; there is such a thing as playing straight. And I would hope that any client of mine whom I represent in public, would abide by both of those principles.”

“I see,” says Emma, and turns to the camera, “Well, this is quite a turnaround! Luke Brandon, here to represent Flagstaff Life, now says that what they did was wrong. Any further comment, Luke?”

“To be honest,” says Luke, with a wry smile, “I’m not sure I’ll be representing Flagstaff Life any more after this.”

“Ah,” says Rory, leaning forward intelligently. “And can you tell us why that is?”

“Oh, honestly, Rory!” says Emma impatiently. She rolls her eyes and Luke gives a little snort of laughter.

And suddenly everyone’s laughing, and I join in too, slightly hysterically. I catch Luke’s eye and feel something flash in my chest, then quickly look away again.

“Right, well, anyway,” says Emma abruptly, pulling herself together and smiling at the camera. “That’s it from the finance experts – but, coming up after the break, the return of hot pants to the catwalk…”

“… and cellulite creams – do they really work?” adds Rory.

“Plus our special guests – Heaven Sent 7 – singing live in the studio.”

The theme music blares out of the loudspeakers and both Emma and Rory leap to their feet.

“Wonderful debate,” says Emma, hurrying off. “Sorry, I’m dying for a wee.”

“Excellent stuff,” adds Rory earnestly. “Didn’t understand a word – but great television.” He slaps Luke on the back, raises his hand to me, and then hurries off the set.

And all at once it’s over. It’s just me and Luke, sitting opposite each other on the sofas, with bright lights still shining in our eyes and microphones still clipped to our lapels. I feel slightly shell-shocked.

Did that really just happen?

“So,” I say eventually, and clear my throat.

“So,” echoes Luke with a tiny smile. “Well done.”

“Thanks,” I say, and bite my lip awkwardly in the silence.

I’m wondering if he’s in big trouble now. If attacking one of your clients on live TV is the PR equivalent of hiding clothes from the customers.

If he really changed his mind because of my article. Because of me.

But I can’t ask that. Can I?

The silence is growing louder and louder and at last I take a deep breath.

“Did you–”

“I was –”

We both speak at once.

“No,” I say, flushing red. “You go. Mine wasn’t… You go.”

“OK,” says Luke, and gives a little shrug. “I was just going to ask if you’d like to have dinner tonight.”

What does he mean, have dinner? Does he mean–

“To discuss a bit of business,” he continues. “I very much liked your idea for a unit trust promotion along the lines of the January sales.”

My what?

What idea? What’s he...

Oh God, that. Is he serious? That was just one of my stupid, speak-aloud, brain-not-engaged moments.

“I think it could be a good promotion for a particular client of ours,” he’s saying, “and I was wondering whether you’d like to consult on the project. On a freelance basis, of course.”

Consult. Freelance. Project.

He’s serious.

“Oh,” I say, and swallow, inexplicably disappointed. “Oh, I see. Well, I... I suppose I might be free tonight.”

“Good,” says Luke. “Shall we say the Ritz?”

“If you like,” I say offhandedly, as though I go there all the time.

“Good,” says Luke again, and his eyes crinkle into a smile. “I look forward to it.”

“Rebecca! Luke!”

Our heads jerk round to see Zelda approaching the set, clipboard in hand.

“Fantastic!” she exclaims. “Just what we wanted. Luke, you were great. And Rebecca...” She comes and sits next to me on the sofa and pats my shoulder. “You were so wonderful, we were thinking – how would you like to stand in as our phone-in expert later in the show?”

“What?” I stare at her. “But... but I can’t! I’m not an expert or anything.”

“Ha-ha-ha, very good!” Zelda gives an appreciative laugh. “The great thing about you, Rebecca, is you’ve got the common touch. We see you as finance guru meets the girl next door. Informative but approachable. Knowledgeable but down-to-earth. The financial expert people really want to talk to. What do you think, Luke?”

“I think Rebecca will do the job perfectly,” says Luke. “I can’t think of anyone better qualified. I also think I’d better get out of your way.” He stands up and smiles at me. “See you later, Rebecca. Bye, Zelda.”