‘Are you serious?’

‘Deadly.’

‘I’ll get out of your way after that,’ I vow. ‘I’m sure you’ve got a ton of work to do.’

He doesn’t respond.

Later, I help carry the breakfast things into the kitchen, looking around for a dishwasher.

‘I’ll take them,’ he says, our fingers brushing as I hand them over. I jolt, as though I’ve been given an electric shock, and his eyes shoot up to meet mine. Shaken, I walk out of the kitchen.

‘Well, it was good to see you.’ I’m attempting breezy, but my voice is wavering.

He clatters the plates onto the countertop and follows me.

‘Bronte,’ he says quietly, swiping my hand.

It happens again. The shockwaves quiver all the way up my arm. I pull my hand away.

He stares at me, helplessly.

‘Why do you have to go?’ he asks. ‘Spend the day with me.’

I shake my head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why not? Polly’s at work. Why are you rushing back?’

‘I haven’t got any clothes.’

‘I’ll take you shopping.’

‘Really?’ I ask with a laugh, feeling all of a sudden weirdly tearful.

‘Really. We can go into Hampstead, go for a walk or something, have lunch.’

‘Haven’t you got to go to your niece’s birthday party?’

His face falls and he stares at the floor, lost. ‘I forgot about that.’ He glances up at me. ‘Come with me?’

My mouth drops open. ‘You’ve got to be kidding, right? Come hang out with your entire family for the day?’

‘Why not? Anyway, it’s not the whole day: it’s a couple of hours.’

‘Don’t they hate me?’

He looks aghast. ‘Of course they don’t!’

‘You never told them what happened between us?’

He recoils. ‘Yeah, I did, but nobody blames you.’

‘Your mum doesn’t think I’m a complete hussy?’ I can’t help feeling a small spark of hope.

He rolls his eyes. ‘My mum would give anything to meet you.’

‘She has,’ I say drily. ‘On your wedding day. I was, “Bronte, there to do the photos”.’

He looks pained. ‘Yeah,’ he says, looking away. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

I sigh. ‘You don’t need to keep apologising.’ My voice sounds leaden.

He stuffs his hands into his trouser pockets and hunches his shoulders.

‘You really want me to come?’ I find myself asking.

He glances up at me. ‘Yes.’

‘Okay,’ I say.

What the hell have I got myself in for?

I end up buying new make-up as well as clothes, then insist we go back to Alex’s so I can get ready properly. My nerves intensify dramatically on the short drive to East Finchley, where Jo and Brian live. I can’t believe I’ve agreed to this. I stare out of the window with longing as we pass an Underground station.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Alex warns. ‘They’re expecting you.’

‘Eek!’ I reply with a gulp.

He smirks and reaches across to take my hand.

I’m so nervous the electric shock this time barely registers.