That evening, as she was thinking about Jonathan, the loner, Geraldine heard a ring at her bell. Checking the security camera, she was surprised to see Ian waiting at her door. She had given him a key to the flat when he had moved in, but since he had left her, she appreciated that he considered it would be inappropriate for him to use it. For a second she hesitated, her finger resting on the button that would buzz him in. Quelling an angry temptation to leave him standing outside, she pressed the button.

‘Come on in,’ she muttered, although she had turned away and he couldn’t hear her. ‘Come in and batter my feelings again, why don’t you?’

She hurried to the mirror in the hall and glanced at her reflection. Her short black hair was neat enough, and she hadn’t yet removed the minimal make-up she wore during the day to accentuate her large dark eyes, but tension was making her look disagreeable. She wondered if Ian would realise how nervous she was feeling. Taking a deep breath, she went to the kitchen, took two wine glasses from the cupboard, and opened a bottle of Chianti, red but light. She had just finished pouring two glasses when she heard her front door close and turned to see Ian standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorway. He looked flustered. His hair was sticking up as though he had just run his hand through it, a habit he had when he was feeling anxious, and his eyes darted around the room without resting on her.

Ian’s unease made her suddenly feel very calm.

‘Let’s go and sit in the living room,’ she suggested.

She set the two glasses and the opened bottle on a tray.

‘I’ve opened a red,’ and she lifted it up, pleased to see that her hand remained steady. ‘Or would you prefer tea or coffee?’

She smiled at him, as though this was a casual social visit. Ian shrugged, muttering that he didn’t mind what they drank, and she followed him into the living room, still holding the wine. Taking a seat, she set down the tray and pushed a glass across the table to him. Raising her own, she gave what she hoped was a gracious smile. If he had come to tell her their affair was over, at least she would know where she stood.

‘Cheers,’ she said and drank.

Tentatively returning her smile, Ian picked up his glass. She hoped he had not noticed how desperately she had gulped at her wine. As the silence between them grew uncomfortable, they both spoke at once.

‘How are things at home?’ Geraldine asked.

At exactly the same time, Ian stammered that he owed her an apology.

‘What for?’ she asked.