‘And on the way to work, the bus was really busy, and then the Tube was even worse, and I . . . I forgot it. I’m so sorry. I’m sick about it. I stupidly left it somewhere – I don’t even know if I left it on the bus or the train. I’ve been wracking my brains, but I was half-asleep and engrossed in the book I was reading and—’

‘Have you reported it?’

‘Yes. Of course. I’ve been ringing London Transport’s lost property office every few hours, asking if it’s been handed in. They’re getting sick of hearing from me.’

I stared into my wine. I didn’t know what to say.

Charlie grabbed my forearm. ‘Please, Andrew. Please don’t be mad with me. I feel like shit, I really do.’

‘I’m not mad,’ I said.

‘If you want to stop seeing me, I’ll understand.’

‘Don’t be silly. I’m not going to break up with you over something like this.’

She inched closer. ‘You look like you’re going to cry.’

That was exactly how I felt. All my stuff. My only connection to my parents. Gone. At least Tilly still had some things. I could probably get copies made, even though we didn’t have the negatives of any of the pictures. Negatives – it sounded so old-fashioned. These days, if you lose a photo you just get another one printed. These ancient artefacts, pictures from the 1980s and 90s, were irreplaceable. Gone forever.

‘The guy at the lost property office said it’s likely the cleaner would have thought it was rubbish. I mean, it’s not the kind of stuff someone would steal, is it? And I’ve looked into it, thinking maybe I could go to the rubbish dump, but depending on where it was chucked out, it could have gone to one of half a dozen dumps, and they destroy stuff really quickly. Like the same day.’

‘Oh Charlie,’ I said.

‘Do you hate me?’

‘Of course not. I just think . . . Maybe I should be on my own tonight.’

She looked at me like I’d suggested that she jump into a fire. ‘You want me to go home?’

A large part of me wanted her to stay, hated not being with her. But I heard myself say, ‘Yes. I think I need to have a night to myself.’

She nodded sadly. ‘OK.’

But after she’d been to the loo and got her coat on and was standing by the front door looking as miserable as a dog who’d just been told off, her hair hanging in her eyes, I said, ‘I’ve changed my mind. Stay.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Come on. Take your coat off. I’ll pour more wine.’

She hooked her hands over my shoulders and pressed her body against me. ‘I love you. And I’m so sorry. Do you want to go to bed?’