‘Maggie. Maggie Warren.’ And then I looked up at him directly as I took the proffered hand, and for the first time since Alex, the first time in such a very long time, I felt a surge of something, something like life, and it almost winded me. I looked up at this man again, and afterwards I had the horrible feeling I might have been mouthing stupidly, sort of fish-like, saying nothing.

He was studying me intently, his dark eyes inscrutable. So intently. I looked away again very quickly and prayed I hadn’t just blushed like a schoolgirl.

‘You all right now, then, Maggie Warren?’

‘Oh yes, I’m fine.’ He was going to walk away. Please don’t walk away. But he moved off – and then he turned and looked at me again.

‘Can I get you a drink?’

Oh God, absolutely. ‘Oh, thanks – if you’re sure,’ I mumbled.

I liked his suit. It would have looked rather odd and out of place on anyone else amid this mayhem, but something about his leanness, about his stance, meant he pulled it off. I’d quite like to pull it off, I decided. I looked at my feet, and back up again. He was still waiting.

‘What’ll it be then?’

‘Oh, sorry! I’ll have a – a glass of red wine please.’

By the time Seb had battled to the bar and back I’d had time to come to my senses. I definitely wasn’t ready for this again. And he – well, he wasn’t Alex. He sat beside me, his dark hair tousled, his shirt very white, and I stared at the razor-sharp creases in his grey trousers and tried desperately to think of something interesting to say.

‘What do you do?’ I’d failed. The flashing lights and the banging music were beginning to confuse me; I breathed deep and tried not to succumb to his crooked smile. Trust in myself and any ability I had to choose a man well – a good man – was long gone. My heart was still lumpen in my chest, still jagged and torn. I couldn’t imagine a time when it would be whole again.

‘I’m an actor, actually.’ He raised his glass to me. I had the uncomfortable feeling he was sizing me up.

‘How exciting.’ Did I sound star-struck? I’d met so many celebrities in my job, but he seemed a little different; somehow aloof from it all. ‘I thought you looked a bit familiar.’

He had a very small scar running vertically above his upper lip, the skin there paler than the rest. I sat firmly on my hands, resisting the temptation to reach out and touch it. ‘Have you been in anything I’d have seen?’