He shook his head, bemused. ‘I don’t get that.’ He took a mouthful of wine then put the glass down, sliding his fingers either side of the stem.

‘Adrian, did Len talk to you at all?’

‘A bit, over pizza. She didn’t want to say anything disloyal but … She’s having a hard time. You know that.’

Robin’s cheeks were hot. ‘Did she mention anything specific?’

‘She says you fight with your mum a lot.’

‘She’s doing my head in. But I’m trying. Anything else?’

‘Not really. It’s kind of …’ He shrugged. ‘All of it, I think. Basically, apart from Corinna, she’s just homesick. She wants to come home.’

Robin felt a burst of frustration. ‘D’ya think?’ She pulled her best gormless expression: Is that why we’re here, in London? In your kitchen?

‘Robin,’ he said.

The look on his face pulled her up short. ‘What?’

‘I know I’ll never be Samir.’

She stared.

‘But I’ll never be Samir. I’d never let you down. I’d never do that to you.’

She couldn’t get the sodding lump out of her throat. ‘I know,’ she said eventually. ‘I do know that, Ade. And I wish I …’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not enough.’

Defeated, Lennie cried as they drove away, big tears running down her cheeks in the strobing amber streetlight. Robin felt sick with self-loathing. Inflicting pain on herself was her prerogative, and Adrian was an adult, he’d known for a while what he was dealing with, the masochist, but not Lennie. ‘There aren’t enough sorries in the world to tell you how bad I feel, Len,’ she said, ‘but I am so sorry.’ Sorry for not loving the right person, for not being able to pretend. Sorry for what I’ve done to you. For what I am.

Lennie said nothing. She turned her face towards the window and wiped her cheeks with her fingers. The network of little streets around Ade’s house – Robin had driven them a hundred times, knew the shortcuts, where the metered parking was, the all-night corner shop. Windows glowed, the people behind them having late suppers, watching the news, accepting without a second thought that in a bit they’d go upstairs to their own rooms, their own beds.

As they approached the Fuller’s brewery on the roundabout at Chiswick, Lennie shifted her body in her seat suddenly and glared at her. ‘You said you missed him.’

‘What?’

‘Here. In the car, on Saturday morning when we were driving. I asked you and you said yes.’