She pulled away for a moment, keeping eye contact, and took his whisky glass from him, put it on the table with her own, then touched his cheek. Always smooth shaven, he’d never gone for the hipster beard, nothing really different about him in the years she’d 301known him except they weren’t together anymore, but they were together in this moment and that’s all that mattered, processes not results, and kissing him again was a process she wanted to get on with.

‘Jenny,’ he said, doubt in his voice.

She ran her hand down his chest. Kissed him again, pushing her tongue into his mouth, gently at first, feeling him move his hand from her hip to her breast, her nipple already responding.

He pulled away. ‘This is wrong.’

‘We’ve all made mistakes.’

‘Doesn’t mean we have to keep making them.’

‘That’s life,’ she said. ‘Making mistakes and dealing with it afterwards.’

His eyes looked glassy, wet. ‘What if our mistakes are too big?’

‘There’s nothing so terrible that we can’t fix it.’

‘I’m not so sure.’

She stroked his brow. ‘You’re here with me, that’s all that matters.’

The phone began ringing downstairs. Jenny looked at the clock on the wall, it was after three. They were supposed to answer it twenty-four hours a day, but some things were more important. It was probably a wrong number, but even if it was a bereavement it could be dealt with in the morning. They would still be dead, after all.

Nine rings then it went quiet.

She placed a soft kiss on his cheek, tried to get the mood back, but he looked out of the window.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jenny said.

He rubbed at his forehead, straightened his back. ‘Something happened.’

‘What do you mean? Between you and Fiona?’

‘No.’

‘Is Sophia OK?’

His daughter’s name made him flinch. ‘She’s fine.’302

‘Then what?’

He shook his head and chewed his lip.

Jenny saw her phone light up through the thin material of her jacket pocket on the back of the chair. She looked at the clock again, thought about the downstairs phone ringing.

She stared at Craig for a long beat then pulled away reluctantly.

‘I better check that,’ she said. ‘It could be important.’

She went to her jacket and took the phone out. Realised she’d had the ringer switched off since she was with Liam earlier. She had seven missed calls, two from Dorothy earlier, five more recently from Hannah, and now a text. She glanced at Craig, who was still looking away, then opened the text. Her vision was blurry from whisky and gin, and it took a moment to focus:

Dad knew Mel. They were together. I’m freaking out. Call me.