‘Fiona’s got me on a diet,’ nodded Cuckoo, patting a hand to what was indeed an admirably flat stomach.

‘Talking of which, did you tell her we were meeting?’

‘No, because I like my balls where they are, thank you very much.’ A family arrived, little boy scampering forward. Cuckoo indicated for he and Abbott to leave. ‘Outside?’

On a bench in the late-March sun they watched visitors come and go.

‘So how is Fiona?’ asked Abbott when they were settled.

Cuckoo sighed. ‘To all intents and purposes she’s coping. She’s redecorating the house. She’s got us on this diet. She’s keeping herself occupied.’

‘But . . .?’

‘But she’s hurting. During the days, she keeps herself busy. But she’s crying herself to sleep most nights.’

‘She still blames me?’

‘No, she doesn’t blame you, Abbott. She knows it’s not your fault. That you did your best.’

Abbott closed eyes that were suddenly pricked by tears, taking a moment or so to compose himself. ‘It didn’t come across that way at the funeral.’

‘I don’t know, mate. All I can say is that she’s mellowed in that regard.’

‘But not enough that you could tell her about this meeting?’

Cuckoo chuckled. He stretched his legs out in front of him and pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘No, Abbott, she hasn’t mellowed that much. I don’t think she will ever mellow that much.’ A pause. ‘What about you? No need to ask about your coping mechanism.’

It was Abbott’s turn to chuckle. ‘It’s not decorating and diets, that much I can tell you.’

‘You can’t go on like it, you know.’

‘I know.’ Abbott had spent enough tortured, hungover mornings telling himself exactly the same thing. Knowing that he needed something – anything – in his life. Something to help take the pain away.

‘So anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure?’ asked Cuckoo.

‘It’s about something that happened a long time ago.’

‘Go on.’

‘OK, do you know about my brother, Chris? Did Fiona ever tell you about that?’

Cuckoo nodded. ‘She did. And I was very sorry to hear it.’

‘Right. Park that for a second. I’ve got this ex called Tess . . .’

‘I’ve heard of Tess.’

‘Oh yeah? From Fi?’

‘Well, who else? She was your girlfriend before her. Apparently, you’ve always carried a torch for her.’

‘That’s what she said, was it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Not that it would bother her.’

‘Well, I think it probably bothered her at the time.’

‘Fair point.’

‘Are you romantically attached now?’

‘Me and Tess? No.’

‘Would you like to be?’

‘More than anything, mate. But she’s married with kids, and anyway, that’s not the point. The point is this.’