‘Look, one day I might feel differently, but right now I’m just not … It’s not that I’m not committed to you,’ she added, stumbling on her words, for a moment remembering the exhilarating freedom of Moscow, of being fully immersed in life as an autonomous unit.

It wasn’t as though she’d done anything to betray his confidence. Even when the thought crossed her mind, she had never been unfaithful.

‘Besides, I have to go back to work in a couple of weeks. It’s not practicable.’

‘Practicable? Sure,’ his voice was dismissive and she longed for his usual carefree tone.

‘Ask again, in a couple of years, I might feel differently.’

He didn’t tell her to go fuck herself, as she would have done if the tables had been turned. Instead, they sat there in silence and finished their sandwiches and then walked back to the house, had sex and fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

They didn’t speak of it again. Perhaps he couldn’t bear the possibility of another rejection, or the conversation such a setback might lead to in terms of where this was all going. Tom was never one to rock the boat.

The day she had returned to London for good, Gabriela felt like she had left a part of herself behind, that a piece of her soul was still roaming the streets of Moscow. Soon enough, though, they settled back into their usual routine, evenings lounging at the house with a book, Tom standing occasionally to select another record from the vinyl collection that took up half the living room.

‘It’s good to have you back,’ he said one night a few weeks after her return as they lay in easy silence, head-to-toe on the sofa. When she looked up and saw him there, splayed across a cushion in his characteristic state of repose, she smiled. In that moment she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

At King Charles Street, the pace of life provided the perfect contrast to time with Tom. In her absence, new faces had emerged as old ones moved on and out into different departments, pursuing other careers or scattering themselves in bureaus across the world.

Emsworth, on the rare occasions when he was actually in the office, seemed more distracted than usual, troubled by something, though she could hardly imagine who or what, given that he seemed to come and go as he pleased, apparently answerable to no one.