‘I’m getting better,’ I said. ‘I’m going to start working for Victor. At long last. And I’ve put the flat on the market too. Hoping to find someone who never watches the news.’

I wanted to tell her that I would get better much quicker, would be able to cope better, if she was by my side. But the words stuck in my throat.

‘And you? What are you going to do?’ I said, swallowing.

She pulled a face. ‘I don’t know. I think I need a change of scene. Maybe I’ll go backpacking or something. Go to Australia.’

‘I’ll miss you if you go,’ I said quietly.

She stared into her coffee. ‘How can I forgive you, Andrew? You thought I was a murderer. You told the police that I killed someone.’

‘I know, but that was—’

‘I know. I understand the reasons. I really do. But I would never have done that to you, whatever. I would have talked to you first. I would never have betrayed you like that.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

She stirred the coffee with a wooden stick. ‘You broke my heart, Andrew.’ She smiled humourlessly. ‘That hurt a lot more than when that nutter threw me into the chest of drawers.’

‘I’m an idiot,’ I said.

‘You are. A real fucking twat.’

She smiled.

It took all my strength to say her name. ‘Charlie . . .’

She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘How do you know what I was going to say?’

‘You were going to ask if we could give it another go.’

I didn’t respond. She was right.

‘But I can’t, Andrew. Not after what you did. You don’t trust me.’

‘But I will, I would. This time.’

She shook her head, looked at me with those soft, beautiful eyes.

‘I’m going to go now, Andrew. It was lovely to see you again. I think I needed to. But please don’t try to follow me.’

I fought back tears. ‘Charlie. I love you. Please don’t go.’

‘I’ll see you,’ she said, her voice so quiet and soft I could hardly hear her.

And she walked out of the coffee shop, leaving me sitting there, all the people at the tables around me trying not to look at the sad guy with the eye patch whose girlfriend had just walked out. It sounded like he’d done something terrible. He deserved it. Besides, she was gorgeous. She could have anyone.

The coffee tasted bitter, despite the sugar. The sunshine had dimmed. The people around me looked ugly and mean. The music on the coffee shop stereo, one of my favourite songs, sounded tuneless, discordant.

Maybe I hadn’t realised quite how much hope I had held for this meeting. I loved Charlie. Now that I’d lost her, I loved her more than ever.

And Rachel – although she couldn’t have me herself – had won.