Dinah’s story had such a profound influence on us that we felt we needed to be quiet together, to share it and absorb it. I knew he felt the same as I did, because once we were out of the ward, David pushed up the sleeves of his black cashmere sweater. He said, ‘Fern, that was intense. It was as if Dinah brought him back to life. Drink?’

I have seriously never wanted one more. ‘For sure.’

We caught the bus back to Chalk Farm and headed to Camden Beach on the roof of the Roundhouse venue.

The evening was cool and we lay back in stripy deckchairs with our feet in the sand, listening to music and drinking mojitos. The sky was streaked with turquoise and pink.

I felt vindicated, as if Dinah had given her blessing to my life choices, for want of a better phrase. I could see things more clearly now.

I was thinking of Dinah telling her story so matter-of-factly, but so determined to get the message over to me, that she gave me the confidence, I suppose, for me to be honest with David in turn.

‘The night we were going to your house and I ran away, it was only because …’

He turned his head to look at me and the evening sun gilded his lovely face. ‘Because?’

I looked into his eyes. ‘I was afraid of the dog.’

For a moment, he stared back blankly and then it dawned on him I was telling the truth.

‘Oh. I get it. You were scared of the dog, not me. I thought I’d come on too strong.’ Then he grinned, as I knew he would; as all dog owners do. ‘Seriously? You’re scared of Duncan?’

‘Yes.’ I slumped back in the deckchair and looked at the beautiful pink-and-blue sky, feeling like an idiot. Here we go. This is the point in the conversation where the dog owners tell you you’ve got it all wrong and push their dog with its mouthful of sharp teeth in your face to show how cuddly it is.

‘Fern, don’t worry about it. It’s fine.’

‘Is it?’

‘Sure. I’ll find him another home,’ David said, bumping his fist against my shoulder.

I laughed, loving him for saying it, even though I knew it was a joke.

His gaze was full of understanding. ‘What started it? Did you have a bad experience once?’ he asked.

‘Not just once. I was a timid kid.’

‘Are you scared of all dogs? Chihuahuas?’

‘Just dogs with teeth. I try not to let them smell fear. My policy is to avoid them.’

‘Aw, Fern, the whole country’s full of dogs,’ he said sympathetically.

‘Yeah, I know.’ We were having this conversation semi-seriously. I was laughing a bit at myself but at the same time it was all true. I scooped up a handful of sand and let it trickle slowly through my fingers.