‘I do. And this is a problem. Because you’re such a dick.’

I eat more croissant, encouraged. ‘How’s Sonny?’

‘He’s okay.’

‘What’s happening with the flat? Is Esther definitely selling?’

I am aware of being careful, considerate, gentle, selfless. Like an addict who has been burned, I am reapproaching this with the caution of a novice. And maybe that’s what I am where Kelly is concerned. A new friend. And this is our year dot.

‘Yes, afraid so. Her kids are really pressuring her. Fucking kids.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Dunno. Still figuring it out.’

I nod and sip my coffee.

‘How are you?’ says Kelly, and it isn’t a normal version of the question. It’s a proper How Are You.

‘There’s something I want to tell you.’

She nods.

‘I didn’t want to tell you when I was asking you to forgive me because I didn’t want it to be like … the dog ate my homework.’ Kelly nods again. She eyes me with the deep, patient curiosity of a friend. ‘I had a miscarriage. With Art.’

‘You were pregnant?’

‘I was. And then I wasn’t.’

‘You didn’t tell me? ME?’

‘Art and I agreed to do the twelve-week silence thing. And then I was so ashamed.’

‘How many weeks were you?’

‘Nine.’

‘Ah shit, Jenny, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s fine. It was just like an abortable bunch of cells.’

‘Well, it was your abortable bunch of cells.’

‘If it’s abortable you can’t care about it, can you?’

Kelly frowns.

‘I don’t know how to feel about anything any more, Kelly.’ I start to cry. ‘It would have been the size of a strawberry.’ She puts her arms around me. ‘I didn’t see it come out. Just pieces of what looked like raw liver. I don’t know why I’m crying.’

‘You’re grieving,’ she says quietly.

‘But what am I grieving for? Because I didn’t love it. I didn’t love being pregnant. I felt like a success and a failure all at once. I felt simultaneously progressive and devolved. I was ambivalent about it.’

‘Maybe you loved the possibility of a future life? Or a better love, with Art?’

‘Maybe.’

‘How was Art about it?’

‘Oh, I don’t really know. He walked out of the hospital like a free agent.’

‘He left you in there?’

‘I let him leave me.’

‘Fucking bell-end.’

I sigh deeply. ‘I guess he was going through something, too. And it’s like Dorothy Parker said: Serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard.’

Kelly laughs. After a moment she says, ‘What died that day was your relationship with him.’

I smile. ‘If only it was that neat. But it was much more than that. Until that moment, I didn’t know what I was.’

‘And what are you?’

‘This, and only this.’