I bite my tongue to save any further response. ‘Pretty much the same, though Rhys came back.’

‘Did he?’

‘Yeah, with half of Interflora and a year’s supply of fruit, it seems.’

‘Wow. Nice. Or creepy?’

‘Mmm, not sure.’ I pick at my food, thinking.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know, there’s something… strange.’

‘Strange how?’

‘I don’t know.’ I place my sandwich down, suddenly not terribly hungry. ‘Sweet, I think, but… it’s weird. I walked in this morning and they were like bookends, all mirrored body language. I keep wondering if the plumber story is just that, a story. It’s as if they really know each other.’

Emma finishes her crisps then reaches for my chocolate, opening it up and breaking herself a piece off. ‘Get your own,’ I say, stealing it back and pretending I wasn’t just about to hide it in the drawer for later. It’s fine. I can share. ‘And if it is a story, why? To what end? I think I’ll let it unfold a bit. He threw her a peach, you know.’ Emma looks at me blankly. ‘She caught it,’ I say, as if that explains everything.

‘Oh, well. That’s that then. Road to recovery right there.’

‘Sarcasm equals lowest form of wit!’

‘Pot and kettle springs to mind.’

‘My point is, Susan responds to Rhys in a way she doesn’t to us. She engages with him, through actions if not words. She listens to him. I don’t think she pays attention to a word I’m saying.’ Emma mock yawns. ‘Yes, you’re hilarious.’

‘I know I am. Look, if his visits help then it’s worth it, isn’t it?’‘Yeah. I guess.’

‘See what happens then, as you say. Besides, what harm can he do?’ She gets up to leave. ‘Oh, and Kat?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Hot consultants can sometimes provide efficient distraction from social media stalking.’

I snap my head up to look at my computer screen, which has woken up, showing Daniel’s Facebook page again.

‘Old Chinese proverb. Or something.’

She winks, launches the rest of her lunch rubbish in the bin and leaves me to hover my mouse over the log-out button. God, I miss him. I can’t help it. I just… I miss having someone to share my day with. To offload the stress of this new responsibility. Would I tell him about all of this – Susan, Rhys? Maybe not details, but principles. And by talking, I’d work through new ideas. I pinch at my nose, my other hand still resting on my mouse. I also miss his arms, his hands kneading away knots in my shoulders, tension in my neck.

I look again at the photo I’d been gazing at earlier. I took it when we were out for a meal to celebrate our fifth anniversary. Then I notice something, something I hadn’t seen before, despite all the times I’ve looked at it. Daniel’s eyes were focused on something behind me. Or was it someone? My stomach drops slightly as new realisations dawn. This photo, his distant gaze – when did I begin to ignore that? When did I accept his distraction? When did it become the norm?