A fury more pure than any I remembered seized me now. The voice banged into something else in the darkness – something that fell with a clatter – and swore softly. I threw my coat off and stood to snap on the lamp. Alex swayed gently in the shaft of light that fell towards him now, the dog clutched like a baby in his arms, the key bowl upended, keys all over the floor.

‘You’re drunk, Alex.’

‘I’m not.’ He swayed again. ‘Not very.’

‘What the hell are you doing here? You absolutely terrified me.’

‘I came to get my stuff, like you said.’

‘What are you talking about?’ My brain was scrambling. ‘What time is it?’

He dropped Digby onto the sofa, and I felt him summoning something. ‘Actually, I was wondering – would you mind –’ He blinked sleepy and unfocused eyes at me. ‘Can I stay here tonight?’ he muttered eventually.

‘What?’ I snapped, rubbing sleep from mine.

‘Please, Mag. I’ll go in the morning, I promise; I won’t make a fuss.’

Speechless, half-dressed for the freezing autumn night, I stood and stared at him.

‘Please let me stay. I don’t want to be on my own,’ he pleaded pitifully. But he would make a fuss; and I was exhausted by it, by my love for him. It had lacerated me for too long.

‘Alex, please.’ I turned away. I hardened the heart which he’d shattered so long ago. ‘You’re doing my head in. You’ve had loads of time to see me. Why now, in the middle of the night?’ There was too much alcohol under the bridge anyway, a veritable flood of the stuff. ‘I’ll ring you a cab.’

‘Maggie –’

‘Alex –’ I summoned every ounce of willpower I possessed, clenching my fists unconsciously. ‘Alex, please, just go.’

He looked at me then, and I looked straight back. I realised what had been scrawled across his face when I’d switched the light on. It had been hope – and it had gone now. Now his eyes just looked dead.

I had a sudden glimmer of what I’d tried so hard to forget, that terrible night in June. I grew more resolute.

We stared at each other for a minute and then, on a sudden whim, I reached up and for one short indulgent moment I pressed my palm against Alex’s face. He smelled of beer and the chill November air.

‘Your hands are cold,’ he murmured, ‘they’re always cold,’ and for a moment he closed his eyes. But I pulled back, setting the chair that he’d knocked over on its legs, and walked upstairs without looking back.

‘Let yourself out, Alex,’ I said over my shoulder, and called Digby to heel. I felt like I was acting in someone else’s play, watching myself go through the motions of telling the man I’d loved more than anyone else in the world to leave me be.