‘I’m sorry,’ I say when I see his face fall. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘Oh, don’t worry. We all knew I was never going to be able to hang on to her for very long,’ he says, smiling sadly and taking a sip of his drink.

‘How long exactly did you?’ I say.

‘Actually, I didn’t do badly, all told. We agreed to go our separate ways about a year ago.’

I take a sip and clench my jaw as the Scotch burns the back of my tongue. Nina in those days struck me as a thing of ether. I remember her high cheeks and fashionable oversized earrings and the smell of rose that trailed her wherever she went. But she wasn’t defined by that as much as she was by how little she revealed. She was impenetrable, to me at any rate.

Seb takes a large mouthful from his glass and clears his throat.

‘About Grace,’ he says.

My heart leaps at her name. For a moment I argue with myself about it. I want to know about her and how she is and where she got to, but at the same time, I know that my body can’t contain the pain of hearing about her. The extent to which she has flown out of my reach. I hold out my hand to cut him off. ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to.’

He shifts on the sofa so that he can turn his body towards me. He sighs and nods.

‘Where did you end up, Xander? For all these years?’

I laugh, catching myself by surprise. The idea of trying to sweep up and assemble the shards of my life from thirty years ago seems suddenly absurd.

‘Here and there,’ I say at last with a smile.

He looks me in the eyes and attempts a smile in return, but it dies on his lips.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I should have done more.’

For a second I don’t register what he is saying.

‘Done more? What do you mean?’

‘After Rory. You know. I should have tried harder.’

I turn my body so I can face him more squarely. ‘I don’t understand.’

He shifts again in his seat. ‘I don’t know. We should have – I should have tried harder to help you.’

This stills me. ‘I didn’t need help, Seb,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t your problem.’

‘I was supposed to be your mate, Xand,’ he says, shaking his head sadly before standing up. He takes a breath and shrugs away the memories. He rubs his eyes and it’s clear that he’s tired. ‘I can lend you some pyjamas if you like. I’ll leave them on your bed.’

I consider telling him not to bother but then wonder whether he would prefer it if I didn’t sleep on his sheets without clothes on.