She sits back. “No,” she says innocently. “I just thought you could ask him to be with your dog. They both appear to play a major role in your life.”

I roll my eyes. “You have all the tact of Nigel Farage.”

“Well?”

“I can’t ask him because he has his own life to which he’s returning soon.”

“He’s leaving,” she says, dismayed.

“Of course. He was never going to stay.” I’m pleased with my tone. It displays none of my inner feelings.

“You seem to like this man,” she says carefully.

“I do. He’s a good friend.”

“And is that all?”

I rub my eyes. “Come on, then,” I say wearily. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Well, I like him for you.”

“You’ve never met him.”

“I know he’s older than your usual twink du jour.” She bites her lip. “But then I’ve got pairs of tights that have been on this earth longer than them.”

“They’re all in their twenties.”

“Pfft. They’re completely wrong for you. You need someone who can meet you on an equal playing field.”

“I’m not playing rugby. It’s just sex.” I stop and groan as she grins.

“So, you are sleeping with him,” she says triumphantly.

“Casually. Just as it should be.”

“Not always. Life isn’t all about that, Magnus.”

I wink at her. “Then you’re doing it wrong.” She sits back, staring at me. “Oh God.” I sigh. “You’re trying to force your heteronormative lifestyle on me.”

She blows a raspberry. “I’m not suggesting you marry this man and keep him barefoot and pregnant. I’m just saying that it’s nice to have someone.”

“I have many someones.”

“But no one important. No one who would worry about you. No one to listen when you have a problem.”

“I don’t want anyone worrying about me, and I’m not dating a psychiatrist.”

“It might be a good idea.”

I stick my middle finger up at her. “All of those other benefits you mentioned can be attained by sex and vodka.”

“What about someone to make you laugh when you’re sad, or someone who hugs you in the middle of the night? What about having an equal who pushes back against you and over whom you have no control? What about someone who wants the best for Magnus Carlsen and not what they can get from Magnus Carlsen QC?” I stay silent, and she smiles at me. “I’ll say no more.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies.”

“I’ll say no more,” she talks over me loudly. She points her finger at the dog. “And that dog can’t stay here. Make alternative arrangements.”