It’s not the first time I’ve been told that. Sometimes I feel that my role in life is to be some kind of repository for secrets and confidences. I wish somebody one day would listen to me. I suppose for people to do that, I’ll have to start talking more.

‘I’d better go, I suppose.’ He struggles to his feet on his second try and holds onto me to get his balance.

The desperate way he looks at me, I know I’m not imagining it. He can’t face going back to his empty home.

‘It’ll get easier,’ I tell him.

‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘You’re a good friend.’ He kisses me briefly on my cheek.

I shiver, because it’s so lovely, so meant to be, and for a moment I can feel the warm imprint linger on my skin. And then as I turn to look at him closely, I press against him and kiss him, my mouth on his, hard and urgent. I slide my hands under his shirt, across his smooth, warm back. I want to be so much more than a friend to him. I want to tell him that he should be with somebody who truly appreciates him, but instead, we’re suddenly off-balance and we hang onto each other, with me tripping over my good Pucci gown, and we fall onto the sofa again. A thud … and then the sound of wine spilling from the bottle. ‘Oh, shit!’

‘Got it,’ he says, sliding to the floor to pick up the bottle.

I go to the kitchen, grab a tea cloth and mop the floor hurriedly using my bare foot, but the moment has passed.

‘What does that say?’ David’s staring at the clock. ‘I’ve got to go!’ Acting as if it’s a matter of great urgency.

‘Sure.’ I walk with him to the front door, and he closes it firmly behind him and my flat is empty again. He’s on his way home through the empty streets doing the walk of shame. I resist the urge to run after him.

I sit on the sofa and finish the dregs of the wine in the bottle, alone and apprehensive. Would we have kissed if he’d been sober? Or if I hadn’t made the first move? I know the answer to both questions: no.

The next morning, David’s already at Stables Market when I get there and Dinah’s reading him bits out of the Metro as if he’s an invalid. He glances at me with a faint smile and continues to look distantly out at Stables Yard.

I’m going to apologise, because I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. Come to think of it, those are the exact words I’ll use.