‘No, that would undeniably be a long-odds plan. Aren’t you almost fifty? Can’t be many women your age—’

‘Three last year, in this country alone, apparently,’ she says darkly. ‘Older than me. So yes, it does happen. And you could have used protection, too, right?’

‘Maybe I would have. If I’d known about the risks.’

That makes anger crackle inside her. But only weakly this time, as though her body is too exhausted to work itself up again. She’s not about to sit here and be lectured. Steeling herself, she looks up from her glass.

‘Well, like I said, don’t worry about it,’ she says coldly and looks him straight in the eye. ‘I’ll take care of it, one way or the other. But I think you should move out.’

Leo Friis leans forward and looks back at her without blinking.

‘Forget it,’ he says. ‘I have a contract and I hardly think this is cause for eviction.’

She’s speechless. Just sits there mutely while he leans back again and studies her with a condoling smile.

‘It’s my baby, too, you know,’ he says. ‘If there is a baby, I mean.’

She’s really trying. To follow, to bridge the gaps between what she thinks he’s going to say and what he says. And what he actually means.

‘There is no baby and there will be no baby,’ she says slowly and clearly, as though talking to a child. ‘I’m not keeping it. There are too many risks, and I don’t think I could hack being a single mother. Not with my job.’

‘Well, you certainly still know how to deal out low blows,’ Leo says. ‘Anyway, you’re obviously free to be as single as you like, but this long-odds kid is going to have a father when it pops out. If it pops out,’ he adds.

She stares at him incredulously. Nervously glances over at the bar where things have gone worryingly quiet. Then back to Leo. She leans forward and hisses.

‘What do you mean? You want me to keep it?’

‘I’m not answering that. Your body, your choice and all that. It’s up to you.’

Then he raises his glass to her before drinking.

But what do you want, Leo? In your heart of hearts.

What do I want?

‘There are risks,’ she says. ‘Down’s syndrome and all kinds of other things.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’m not sure. I suppose the biggest risk is miscarriage.’

‘Risk or chance? I’m confused . . .’

‘I don’t know. Bloody hell, Leo, I don’t know.’