As soon as I could make a call, I phoned Saffy to say I’d arrived in beautiful Cyprus. Penthouse suite, marble furniture, chilled champagne stuffed in a bucketload of ice. The aroma of kleftiko floating from a trolley, steered into my suite by a tanned and handsome young waiter.
Saffy wasn’t interested.
She said if I hadn’t yet again decided to help myself to jewellery for sale in several London stores, I actually could have been in Cyprus – instead of jail. Of course, she then quoted my ex. Her boring father. “If you do the crime, you do the time.”