In NYC I go to a restaurant called Seven at eight.

When I arrive the duplicitous tycoon admits he’s invited others, a movie producer and someone who will ‘pop in’ by the name of Nicky Haslam. Everyone in England knows of Nicky Haslam, and since I was raised in the UK I know of him, except we’ve never met and I presumed he’d be tricky. Wrong again, he’s fabulous!

‘Caitlyn,’ the producer pointed with his chin.

Tycoon and I pivoted smoothly but when faced with a sequoia in a dress and kitten heels neither of us could agree with the movie producer.

‘No!’ we laughed.

‘I’m right,’ producer said.

I needed to know.

Not one for debate and better in action I slung together a plan and executed without hesitation.

Jenner and date were leaving the restaurant which meant a delay in a vestibule where a coat lady exchanges garbs for bills. In the vestibule the date was now at the door to the street with Jenner directly behind him. I exploded into the vestibule. It is now exactly the four of us. For no reason Jenner and date do not proceed out to the door. As if they are waiting?

‘Excuse me!’ I say, loudly, buying time since I never recognize anyone and I just couldn’t be certain.

Jenner Zens-out in profile, her face stoic and though she does not look at me, equally she does not flee, she is perhaps preparing herself, for interaction. She is dramatically tall, her decathlon legs are miles long and thin as an anorexic. Her hair is fabulous.

‘Are you…. ?” I said, dragging out my words, as Jenner ignores me meanwhile dawdling, waiting?

‘Maria?’ I spoke directly into the face of the coat lady. Jenner and date leave immediately and slam door. ‘Maria’ confirms the sighting was indeed Ms Jenner.

Instant later:

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ said Mr Haslam when he ‘popped in’.

‘I’m sorry you’re late,’ I said, ‘You missed Caitlyn by two seconds!’