‘It’s almost seven, Phillip. I know you’re obsessed with this idea that we haven’t been to bed and we’d better get our “eight hours” and curl up with our cocoa.’ Curl up with our cocoa, that wasn’t bad: that had come out with a satisfying bite. She was almost enjoying this, apart from how awful it was. ‘But the thing is, the sun is basically up, quite a lot of people do run at this time, however stupid it might seem to you, and before you say I’ve been drinking all night …’

‘It’s none of that,’ said Phillip, ‘it’s just, well. Running hasn’t happened for a little while. The thing was that you hated to remember when you had to run every day, right? So in your life now you don’t really run, we do other stuff …’

‘I didn’t say I was never going to run, did I, I just—’

‘Yeah, but it’s funny that it comes back now.’ Phillip had got hold of this idea, all right: he loved an idea, a theory, she thought wearily. ‘So now we have you suddenly thinking all about your ex and guess what, you are also doing what you and the ex used to do. And I notice you, a few times, have posted things about plus-size running like maybe you are thinking of getting into this again. And meanwhile at the gallery you seem to be not quite so into the art like you used to …’

‘Oh, fucking hell.’ She was lacing her shoes, foot up on the bed. ‘Is that because I was pissed at the launch? The artist was the other side of the room, Phillip! She would have had to have James Bond ears to hear me! And I didn’t even say anything which—’

‘It was obvious what you thought. You are off your tits on the Prosecco and I have an important artwork, with the artist right there …’

‘Important artwork!’ She couldn’t help herself; she’d been sitting on it for so long, having to send out the invitations, pass press requests to the artist who never did any of them because she was always off in a field thinking about bees or something. ‘Phil, it’s a load of trousers!’

He put his hands on his hips; he was wearing his reasonable face again. ‘Really? We’re really going to talk about Denim World and whether it is art?’

‘It’s a load of jeans on plinths, Phil! Literally all the artist had to do was buy the plinths on Amazon! If I take the laundry basket into work on Monday, will someone give me an exhibition?’