‘For fuck’s sake, Maggie.’ Alex stood up too quickly and whacked his forehead on the lampshade. ‘The bloke’s a fucking bully.’

‘Sit down, Alex. He might well call you the same, you know.’

‘He might, I suppose,’ Alex muttered, rubbing his sore head almost violently. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this? I could talk to him –’

‘It’s nothing to do with you any more, Al. I’m not your problem now, you know that.’

He looked down at me and suddenly I felt like I was on a keeling ship, as if I was pitching up and down; as if I needed to grab for Alex. If I grabbed on, perhaps I could haul myself back up to safety.

Alex sat down beside me now. Digby grinned up at him happily.

‘You’ll always be my problem, Mag,’ he said quietly, fondling the dog’s silky ears with his long, nicked fingers.

‘Why’s that then?’ I peeled the whole colourful top layer off the beermat.

‘Because,’ he rubbed his craggy face tiredly. ‘Because you’re my best friend.’

‘Really?’ I stared at my drink. My heart felt like it was somersaulting across that deck. ‘Well, you’re not a very good best friend, Alex.’ I looked at him again. ‘In fact, you’re an extremely bad friend. You’ve practically cost me my career.’

And he looked at me and I looked back, and suddenly it was like we were connected again, just like we used to be. It was a strange sensation, and I tried to remind myself of all the black days, the violent rampages, the terrible despair, but –

Alex took my hand in his; the hard skin on his fingertips just as I remembered, the blister from where he held his pencil too tight when he drew, the scars and scratches from where he simply didn’t care enough. ‘Cold as ever,’ he muttered, turning my palm up. I felt most peculiar, like I was about to lose myself.

And then my dad walked in.

‘Maggie, love!’ His eyes found me, his long face all consternation, his anorak crackling damp from the fog and drizzle that had started outside. He suddenly looked old, and I felt a huge rush of guilt over all the stress and worry I kept putting my poor father through.

Alex stood up. ‘Hi, Bill.’ He shook my dad’s hand.

‘Alex. Thanks for looking after her.’

I snorted. ‘I’m not a child, you know.’ But the way they both looked at me then made me doubt my own words.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Alex asked my father, almost hopefully.

‘No, better not, thanks all the same. I’d like to get you home, Maggie. I’m double-parked outside.’ He patted Alex’s shoulder absently. ‘Another time, old chap. I’ll be in the car, Mag.’