‘Then, slowly, he started asking me about you.’ Lewis glances at her then away. ‘He had a lot of questions. But I told him everything. At least, I thought I told him everything but then even today, before coming here I realised that maybe I hadn’t.’

‘What do you mean?’

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter now.’

Afterwards, they walk through the browning sludge towards the station. The snow has stopped falling yet there’s a sense of mild panic amongst the commuters, who are almost racing with each other.

‘Which way are you going home?’ she asks.

‘I go to Euston then get the fast train home,’ he pulls the tube map from his pocket, ‘it’s the black line, right?’ She hears Kiama laugh about using anything other than a smart phone to access a map.

‘Is that wrong? Is it not the black line?’

‘No. I wasn’t laughing at that.’

The crowds push around them, and they step to the side of the pavement.

‘Thank you,’ he says, ‘for meeting me.’

She nods. There must be something to say, after all these years, everything they’ve been through, there must be something else.

He looks around and in a direct copy of Kiama says, ‘Jesus. I always forget how busy London is.’

‘It’s the biggest shopping day of the year. I’m surprised you didn’t try to drive in.’

‘I thought about it,’ he laughs. ‘Wish I did now. The trains are going to be packed, aren’t they?’

‘Afraid so.’

‘Maybe I should wait a bit. Let rush hour finish.’

She nods, ‘That’s a good idea.’

‘Do you want to get a drink with me?’ he says quickly and then looks sheepish. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’

Neither of them says anything. She takes a breath, ready to answer but then he laughs and says, ‘I still can’t help myself, Yvie.’

‘We just had a drink. Didn’t we?’

‘We had a coffee,’ he corrects. ‘I don’t think that counts.’ He crosses his arms in front of his chest and tilts his head to the side, in a manner of his she recognises, but it’s slightly more cautious now, less cocky than it was back then. He doesn’t seem so sure of himself anymore, about his clout over her. Again, he looks at the train station and hordes of people.

‘Okay,’ she says.

‘What?’

‘Let’s get a drink. A proper one this time.’

‘Are you sure?’

Then, for the first time in over twenty years, she takes Lewis’s hand without any guilt and they head back to the pub.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my agent Eve White, I knew from the start I was lucky to have you and as this journey goes on I just keep having this confirmed. To my editor Manpreet Grewal, I don’t know how you do it, but you’re simply outstanding, thank you for everything.