Mr Torkington's LUNCH

She knew what she was doing was wrong but would she get her just deserts?

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I never thought I'd wear a blue polyester suit with a pussy-bow blouse. But, just out of college and desperate for a job, I took the only one on offer, as a receptionist at a large firm of solicitors.

I'd receive visitors, take messages and make clumsy attempts to arrange flowers in a tall crystal vase. It was so boring, I decided I'd stay six months, save some money, then travel.

One morning, soon after I started, a woman appeared with a Tupperware lunch box.

'It's for Mr Torkington,' she said as she passed it to me. Her wedding ring suggested she was Mrs Torkington. Her husband must have forgotten his lunch.

I waited for her to leave, then I opened the box. It contained two bagels filled with smoked salmon and cream cheese, a tub of avocado salad, a packet of luxury crisps and a chocolate brownie studded with macadamia nuts. A paper napkin, wooden cutlery and a carton of mango juice completed the feast.

I thought of my own lunch box and its contents - a thin, white-bread sandwich filled with orange processed cheese and a sorry-looking apple.

I picked up the phone. 'Item in reception for Mr Torkington.' 'I'll be right down,' came his secretary's reply.