As she stood, her hands moved quickly through her hair, her legs out of step with the rest of her body. It was as though the internal dial that controlled the senses in her body had been turned up too high. It was a feeling that was hard to pinpoint then, but looking back she would recognise it for what it was: guilt. Guilt for what she had no intention of doing and yet which was also utterly inevitable, even then. Fear, too?

As she moved past Ivan, she became aware of a hint of musky aftershave wafting from his direction. Tom had never worn fragrance. They had laughed at the idea when discussing what they might buy each other as presents on their first Christmas together, over a Chinese takeaway, Tom conceding that he wasn’t enough of a proper grown-up to use such things.

‘So you’re saying you’re some sort of man-child,’ she had replied. ‘Well, that’s an attractive prospect.’

‘My eternal youth is just one of the reasons why you adore me,’ Tom had shrugged in response, and she had rolled her eyes, biting into a prawn cracker, her lip sticking to the surface and leaving a tiny blister.

What had changed, between then and now? The answer was heartbreakingly clear: everything had changed and yet not enough.

‘So what brings you here again?’ Ivan asked once the food had arrived, two plates of chicken Milanese set between them preventing her from fiddling with her phone by way of distraction.

‘I’m working around the corner,’ she said, unsure of her tone.

‘Oh yes, you work at a charity.’

She made an expression of surprise and he shrugged unapologetically. ‘I have a good memory.’

‘Clearly.’

‘Says the woman who remembered my name.’

She looked down, as if her next question was little more than polite conversation. ‘And what about you?’

‘Me?’ He raised his eyebrows as if her question hadn’t been clear enough.

‘Are you based around here?’

He nodded, taking a mouthful of food.

‘My office is on Pall Mall. Just around the corner.’ He stopped and raised a napkin lightly to his mouth, apparently unsure of what he was about to say.

‘Listen, I don’t suppose … Today is my birthday and I was going to go for a drink after lunch, to celebrate. I wonder if you would join me?’

‘Oh, happy birthday,’ Gabriela said, her voice faltering. ‘I’m sorry, I have work—’

It wasn’t as though she didn’t resist, she would tell herself later. It wasn’t like she didn’t try to say no.

‘So how was the party?’ Tom asked above the whistling of the kettle, the following morning.