I blink and nod, feeling lighter suddenly. For the first time since I walked out of our flat three hours ago, I can see a tiny crack of light in the darkness. My heart is pumping, and I’m much more sober than I was a few seconds back. ‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I have to fight for her. I just hope it’s not too late.’

‘It’s not, mate.’ Harv smiles. ‘Trust me.’

He takes another swig of his pint. His cheeks are flushed – presumably from the novelty of us discussing something that actually matters for once. He slams the glass down and smacks his lips. ‘God, I’ve missed Guinness. Vodka tonic really can’t compete.’

I laugh. ‘Harv, I’ve wanted to say for a while now that I’m really sorry about Liv. I feel like I was a shit friend to you throughout that whole time.’

He shakes his head. ‘No, you weren’t, man. I completely cut everyone off. I was trying so hard to blend in with her and her mates: going to those awful private members’ clubs, listening to terrible house music. I was trying to be someone else, I guess. So it was my fault too.’

‘Still, I should have tried harder to be there for you when it ended, and to chat to you about it. I’m sorry for that. But I’m just so glad that we …’ I pause, because I can’t think of any other way to finish this sentence than ‘got back together’.

‘Got back together?’ Harv says with a grin.

‘Yeah, exactly.’

‘I’m glad too.’

We catch each other’s eye and laugh. And just for a second, despite the fact that my entire life is lying in pieces around me, I actually feel good.

On the stereo, the Pogues give way to Slade, drawing a muted cheer from the old guys at the bar. ‘We should talk about proper things more often,’ I say to Harv. ‘Not just football and hip hop.’

He narrows his eyes. ‘Benjamin, there’s nothing more proper on earth than football and hip hop.’

‘True.’ I spin my phone on the table and take a deep breath. ‘So, do you think I should text Daff? Or call her?’

Harv takes a final sip of Guinness as he considers this. ‘No. I reckon we should go back to mine so you can get your head straight, and then you should give her a call tomorrow.’

Tomorrow. For the first time in what feels like forever, I am actually going to have a tomorrow. I glance instinctively down at my watch. The main reason I picked this pub as our meeting place was the chance that I might see the watch-seller here again. This is where we first met in the real world, so surely there’s a good chance I might see him here again now that I’m back.