‘Sorry. I’ve got to go.’ Atticus never turns Dan down. Disappointment and insecurity crest on waves inside his stomach as he watches Atticus dress with brisk efficiency. When his belt is done up and his shirt buttoned, Atticus leans down and kisses Dan on the forehead, takes a deep sniff of his hair, then turns and jogs down the stairs.

‘Bye, Daniel,’ he calls, as he opens the front door. ‘I love you.’ It slams behind him and the sound hits Dan in the face. What just happened?

Fitz runs downstairs and barks at Atticus to come back, but he doesn’t listen. Fitz dithers, trying to choose the perfect present to cheer Dan up. He can’t decide between Dan’s old Spurs sock or the parrot. In the end he grabs both, and pads carefully back up the stairs, his nametag tinkling.

Bournemouth had been brilliant, but Dan wonders now if Atticus’s oddness is because of the drinking confession. Did he feel he’d given something away? He decides to go to work early and go through the old notes he made on Atticus, brief as they were. See if he can join up any dots. But life gets in the way, and Alan is there waiting for him when he arrives. ‘Ah, good, you’re here early. I have an emergency case for you.’

Dan doesn’t have time to eat, or to spray his lavender. He manages a quick text to Atticus: Dinner at mine? I’ll cook and another to Luke: Call me. Neither replies.

Dan sees a woman who wants to leave her husband but not his money, followed by a teenager who wants to go to university, but his parents want him to run their shoe shop in Haywards Heath, as every man in their family has done before. He sees an overweight teenager who has been self-harming, a company director addicted to phone sex. He gives couples therapy to a pair of lesbians who both want to be mothers but neither wants to be pregnant.

By the time Dan gets home, he has nothing left to give anyone. Neither Atticus nor Luke answers his phone and he’s secretly relieved. He eats a mountain of pasta and pesto, watches The Empire Strikes Back and falls asleep on the sofa with Fitz, who is being especially clingy.

Lizzie

(All coming out in the wash)

BETH SITS IN THE office, like a prisoner. She doesn’t need handcuffs, she’s shackled by shame. She lets her shoulders sag under the weight of her self-hatred. She’s exhausted. Could sleep for the first time in forever.