It’s not Paris, not quite, but it’s a good day. They leave in high spirits, stopping at the Taj supermarket for dinner ingredients. Atticus, inspired by all the talk of restaurants, wants to make boeuf bourguignon. They stand side by side in front of the vegetables, squeezing lemons for no reason and making jokes about firmness.

The shopping swings between them at the bus stop. When the bus arrives, Paris-Dan clambers upstairs to get the best seats at the front. Atticus joins him, and they ride home with their feet up.

‘So, you don’t like this Lizzie, then?’ Atticus says later, over dessert (peach parfait). Dan has told him about the awkward dinner at Luke’s.

‘It’s not that I don’t like her, there was just something off about her.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, from what Luke told me, she fled her husband and now lives in that women’s refuge. You know the one?’ Atticus nods and Dan says, ‘Apparently he beat her pretty badly. Luke has seen the scars.’

‘But you don’t believe her?’

‘Of course I believe her. I’m just surprised. She’s not what I thought she’d be like. She’s confident and kind of intimidating.’

‘So, all battered women are meek and mild and deserve what’s coming to them?’ Atticus says, raising an eyebrow.

‘Not at all! No one knows what goes on behind closed doors. No cases are ever cut and dried.’

‘You see her as a case?’

‘I can’t help it.’

‘Dear Daniel, wanting to save the whole world.’

‘Stop it. You know what I mean. I did a couple of modules on abuse.’

‘Anyway,’ Atticus says then, ‘perhaps Luke has just fallen in love.’

‘Love? Luke is the king of crushes. It’s so out of character.’

‘Like you holding hands with a boy in public?’ Dan blushes and Atticus grins. ‘People don’t always present their truth, Daniel. Sometimes they project something entirely different. The lies we tell others are nothing compared to the lies we tell ourselves.’

‘Plato? Pushkin?’ Dan asks.

‘Derek Landy, actually.’

Later, after Fitz has licked the bowls clean, Dan lights a scented candle and puts his feet on Atticus’s lap. ‘Why don’t we ever go to your house?’

‘We do,’ Atticus says evenly.

Dan wriggles his toes. ‘Don’t take it the wrong way. I love having you here. I just wondered if you wanted to be at home more. I don’t mind going over there.’

‘It’s not really mine. It’s my parents’ flat. I just live there. I feel more at home here, with you, plus it’s easier for me to get to work.’

‘The charity shop?’

‘Tsk, don’t laugh. I love it.’