I spread my hands. “Ack, I’m shit at this. Just take a look at Endof. He’s fine and hearty.” We both turn to the dog, who immediately adopts a tragic pose as if I’ve spent the last couple of days beating him. “Okay, don’t look at him,” I say quickly. “Just concentrate on the fact that I’ve looked after him very well since you offloaded him onto me, so why can’t I do that with you?” I eye him sourly. “Your nose is always cold and wet, and you’ve certainly got the walking bit down pat.”

His lip twitches, and then he smooths his expression. “So, you think you can look after me because your dog is still living even after his time in Carlsen Towers, the Hall of the City Twinks. Why would I believe you?” He puts up his hand. “Not to mention the fact that I don’t need looking after.”

I scuff my foot again. “You might one day.”

“Oh, so it’s pity that’s brought you here,” he growls. “When I wrote you that note, it was goodbye. I don’t need you here trying to help the blind man. I can get along fine without any help.”

“Have you learnt nothing?” I say incredulously. “The only pity I feel is for myself being saddled with such a recalcitrant man and having to take part in this godforsaken conversation.” I eye him. For some odd reason, all the anger leaves him in a rush, and his eyes are happy again. I will never understand him.

I sigh, long-suffering. “Jeg elsker dig,” I say sourly.

There’s a very protracted silence as he stares at me, expressions running too fast over his thin face for me to parse.

“I have no idea what you just said,” he finally says. “Did you ask me where the washing machine is?”

I look askance at him.

He laughs. When he’s finished behaving like an idiot, he stands and steps forward. His familiar soapy scent envelops me, and I feel the last bit of tension unravel inside me like I’ve stepped through a door and I’m home. Then he speaks, and everything else vanishes.

“I love you too,” he says fiercely, the words impassioned and his thin face alive with so many feelings. “I love you so much, Mags.”

For a wild second, I’m struck dumb, like the world has stopped turning. There’s a protracted silence, and his lip twitches.

“You… do?” I finally say. I can’t help the note of incredulity.

His eyes dance with amusement. “Is there some reason why I shouldn’t?”

“Oh no,” I say quickly before he can change his mind. “I’m very lovable.”

“And irritating.”

“Who said that?” I ask crossly.

He makes a display of looking around, and I contemplate shoving him. “I think it was me.”