Imogen nods. ‘Sometimes literally. Or the Instant Noodle Games, at any rate. But we’re here. We’re celebrating. And we have tiny cheese toasties!’

As Harri reaches across the table for the snacks, she looks up and makes eye contact with a man. She smiles and waits for him to look away, so she can convey the deep fried item to her mouth as quickly as possible. But he’s smiling, and he’s walking towards her. Oh, no. Is this—is he interested? Surely not. It’s been a while, she’s forgotten how to read the signals.

As he approaches, Harri’s drunk brain is slowly working out that she might know him from somewhere. Work? Is he a friend of Rosa’s? Did he go out with Giles? He looks a little too scruffy for that, most of Giles’ boyfriends have been cologne ad glossy. Someone from…school?

‘Harri, good to see you! It’s been a while.’

‘Hi! Hi hi hi! Ah, this is…everyone!’ She points at Imogen, trying to buy herself time. ‘It’s Imogen’s birthday today, so…’

The man seems to realise that Harri is struggling. ‘I’m Tom,’ he says. Then, thank goodness, ‘I worked with Harri about a thousand years ago on this terrible magazine launch, Luxus. It never went anywhere.’

Harri could cry with relief. Yes! Luxus. That awful magazine for millionaires! ‘How have you been, Tom?’

‘Good, really good, dead busy, doing more digital stuff. Listen, I don’t think I’ve seen you since…I’m so sorry, about Andy. He was a great guy. One of the best.’

‘Yes, he was…was…’

Harri can’t breathe, she needs air, but she can’t trust herself to open her mouth in case she’s sick, she’s definitely going to be sick. She has just enough presence of mind to pull her coat from her seat, did she have a bag, she must have a bag, she’s got to get out of here, she thinks she might have leaped over her own chair, clearing it in a single bound, she can’t see, she’s walking through waitresses, she’s oblivious to the people anxiously calling her name, and she’s outside, running through the piazza, looking for a taxi, looking for a secret, scarcely lit side street where no one will find her, where she can howl into the darkness.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Professional widow

Harri

Alone, in the alley, Harri tries to steady her breath, and waits for the pain to subside.

She’s been waiting for years.

She can still hear the paramedic. ‘Had he experienced any shortness of breath? Any palpitations? Chest pain? Fainting episodes?’