Archie is amused. He leans back as their food arrives. ‘You’ll have to be more specific.’ He moves his knife and fork slightly as the waiter places the plate down. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you,’ says Titch. They examine their plates.

‘This looks lovely.’

Titch tastes a mouthful of her salad. ‘Mm,’ she says.

She finds it hard to pin down the nature of her concern. She remembers the way Rose held her hand on the Tube that first day. She can still feel the touch of her fingers. She remembers the electric shock of it. She’d drawn back, but then she’d spent all day with the imprint of those fingers, like a burn in the palm of her hand.

‘She seems a bit detached.’

Archie frowns. He swallows, then takes a sip of wine. ‘She’s a model. That’s what they’re supposed to do.’

Titch reaches for the pepper. ‘I don’t mean when she’s working. I mean when you talk to her.’

What Titch is trying to say is that she feels cut off. Rose was her thing. She’d never done anything like that before, and the first time she did, it changed someone’s life. It still feels good, but Titch can’t help thinking that somehow it ought to feel better.

Archie says, ‘She’s sweet. She’s a bit overwhelmed at times, that’s all.’

Titch thinks through this. Yes. Could be.

‘And you two?’ she says, her eyes lifting to Archie’s face. His features are regular and well cared for. His dark hair waves just right. He’s boyish, but the dark stubble gives him a more manly edge.

He smiles. ‘All good.’

Titch chases a lone cherry tomato with her fork. When she was eighteen, she had a boyfriend who was thirty-two. She met him when she was an intern at her first magazine. He was a writer. She sees the same thing now. Young, fresh faces, and the more experienced men make a beeline for them. Her mum was horrified. But Titch knew what she was doing. She knew it was a dalliance. She also knew the better she integrated with the social world of the magazine, the more doors would open for her.

It wasn’t quite as calculated as that. Nothing ever was, for her. But there are many layers of response. The social world is a nuanced place, and you move through it using deep-buried knowledge. As Titch got older, more and more she was able to name that knowledge, see its workings. At the time, there was just the same amount of social skill at play, but it was instinctive, instilled carefully from an early age. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to flatter, to make people laugh, to highlight their strengths so that they felt good in your company.