A lump rose in my throat and for a moment I couldn’t speak. Douglas read his own meaning into this. With a frustrated sound he turned away from me. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. He jerked loose from me fiercely. ‘Don’t, for God’s sake.’

‘What?’

‘Feel bloody sorry for me.’

‘I don’t feel sorry for you,’ I said. ‘Actually I was feeling quite sorry for myself. Why do you have to take it that anyone who shows you any sort of affection must be feeling sorry for you?’

‘Well, why else do you keep on seeing me?’ he burst out. ‘You’re clearly still in love with – him. There’s nothing I can do about that.’ He looked into my eyes and I was rocked by the strength of emotion in his. ‘I feel helpless. That’s what drives me mad. I’ve spent months watching you mourn for someone else, feeling I should keep my distance from you, when it’s all I can do to hold myself back from touching you. Because I don’t want you to think I’m . . .’ He made another frustrated gesture.

‘What?’

‘I don’t want you to think I’m a crass idiot coming crashing in when you see me as nothing more than a second-best companion.’

‘That’s not how I see you.’ I looked away, down at the brick floor of the porch. In a flat voice I said, ‘I can’t tell you I didn’t – don’t – love Angus. And in some ways that hasn’t been finished properly. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you. I’m just so afraid – ’

He waited for me to finish. I couldn’t look at him as I spoke.

‘I’m afraid of him coming back. And I’m afraid of him not coming back. It’s utterly unfair on you, I know. And you’ve been so good to me. I’m very grateful.’

‘He’s not going to come back, Katie,’ he repeated gently.

‘I know that really. In fact today, when I was in town, I really saw properly that I have to try and put it all behind me.’ I moved closer and laid my hands on Douglas’s shoulders.

‘Katie – ’ He sounded wretched. ‘Please don’t do this if you don’t really mean it.’

‘I do.’ I wanted to mean it, wanted things to be resolved and clear. I reached up and stroked his face. ‘Thank you for being so patient.’

He pulled me hard into his arms. ‘Katie. Katie . . .’ His lips pressed hard on mine. I felt firstly the comfort of being held. As I kissed him back, the desire for him I had fought against for so long lit at his touch.

On a beautiful, tranquil Sunday in July we sat together on the grass at the far end of our garden, beyond the vegetable patch and bean-sticks. Douglas often spent part of the weekend at our house now, rather than in his spartan digs, the garden of which had space for nothing but vegetables. My mother was civil to him, if not exactly warm, but he apparently saw no lack in her then, and even seemed to be quite fond of her.