I locked the car door and stared up at the house. I knew he was in; the sitting room lamp was on in the bay window. And I knew that if I took a few steps to the left I’d be at the correct angle to see him at the round table he’d moved there. The one with the fringed paisley throw. Maybe wearing a crumpled white shirt and jeans. Bare feet. I took a deep breath. I badly needed to speak to him. It was going to be acutely embarrassing, particularly, I realized, as he was someone I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of. Which was why I’d pretended I wasn’t driving here. But there was no one else to turn to about this. I’d decided that. Regrettably, it had to be him.

To stop myself from chickening out, I put one foot in front of the other and climbed the steps quickly. I rang the bell. I heard light footsteps coming down the passage, which should have alerted me, but because I was running purely on adrenalin, it didn’t. The young woman who stood smiling in the open doorway was slim, blonde and stylish in a casual, leggings and ballet pumps sort of way. It was a look I’d tried myself once, but failed to pull off, my bottom looking enormous, my legs short and fat.

‘Hello?’ She smiled enquiringly as I failed to speak, transfixed as I was by her beauty. That mane of blonde hair.

‘Oh! Hi. Um … is Josh in?’

‘Yes, he is. Come in.’

She stood aside, still smiling, then shut the door. She overtook me to lead me down the hallway. ‘Joshy!’ she called out, as she went. Joshy.

I followed her down into my – or perhaps her – kitchen, where a pan was about to bubble over on the cooker.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ She lunged for it, and just managed to catch it before it came to fruition. ‘Thai green curry,’ she told me as Josh appeared behind us from the sitting room. ‘Or it will be, if I manage to find a lime and some coriander to shove in it. I’m Tilly, by the way.’

She flashed another relaxed smile, her whole demeanour reeking of smart schools, skiing holidays, swimming pools in the country and basically the sort of life I’d have liked Imo to lead. I say Imo, because I’d say she was closer to her age than mine, or maybe somewhere in between. Mid-thirties, perhaps. Either way, she was a lot younger than me, and fabulous. I turned from this vision to behold Josh, whose hair was tousled. He looked as if he was still engrossed in his work, and more than a little surprised to see me.