‘Ai Weiwei in a Manger.’ She smiled, smelling Phillip’s aftershave on the hoodie she was now wearing. A morning breeze skipped lazily off the canal and sniffed around the backs of their necks, like a dog half-interested. She let herself breathe in and out. ‘You said it was puerile because he is …’ She summoned enough energy to do a pompous-Phillip voice. ‘One of the most important artists.’

‘Yes, so, again, absolutely – an absolute penis.’ Phillip took her arm. ‘Well, his manager is going to tweet on his behalf and some other guys are going to spread that, too, and we will find James. James will be OK.’ It was the first time Phillip had ever used his name, that she could remember.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘I love you,’ said Phillip. He coughed. ‘I was thinking, a crazy thought really, but just if something happened to you, while you were out, drunk a little bit still maybe, and you fall in or something, and I would never forgive myself.’ He dusted down his tone, re-found a little of the tease. ‘But in the end nothing like that has happened, you were just sick because even you cannot run after all those beers. So maybe we should go home now?’ Another cough; she couldn’t tell if he was catching something, being outside around dawn for what was probably the first time in his life, or if the unfamiliar action of backtracking was sticking in his throat. ‘I mean, go home but keep working on James. Keep trying to be in contact.’

Michaela stayed where she was, half folded up by his handsome frame, and although she was listening, and still thinking of James, there was something else, too. She was thinking about how late her period was this month, and how drinking had never ever made her sick before. The gentle pace of the run had been nowhere near enough to upset her internally and it was hours since the last beer. No, something else was going on here. They said you could tell, when it happened. On futuremums.com. They said some part of you just knew right from the first moment.

And if this was the moment, if ‘it’ had happened, then what? Then everything that had happened with Phillip tonight would have to be forgotten, because this was a line. No more flitting in and out of things. Real life would begin.

Or: she was trapped. Real life would smother her. She would, for the first time, be bound by the decisions she had made, unable to flip the page and start with another fresh one. This could be the best or worst thing ever to happen to her. And yet if something had happened to James, she wouldn’t even be able to think about it, let alone tell Phillip. No, she wasn’t going to tell Phillip for a little while.