She knew she had. Her blonde hair came out of a bottle these days, and there was no doubting she was different on the inside. She looked away again, through the window where fields were blurs of green.

As seconds became minutes he said, ‘Maybe we could catch up some time. Now we’ve found each other again.’

Words bounced around her head, as a prickle of sweat settled on her forehead. She didn’t want to be unkind, but she was with Jack, and even if she wasn’t, there was nothing there – not even a spark.

She turned to see his cheeks glowing red, and an urge to say sorry for hurting him all those years ago rose once more. ‘I’m with someone,’ she said instead.

‘That’s cool. Me too,’ he said, with what seemed like a genuine smile. ‘I meant as friends, that’s all.’ He pulled out his phone, the yellow Nokia he’d had at university. ‘We could exchange numbers.’ His shoulders rose in a shrug, making him look helpless. ‘It would be good to meet up some time.’

***

Triple-glazed windows sealed against the noise of heavy traffic rattling along the road outside, and a whirring fan that was having little effect, meant the apartment felt even hotter than outside. Isla hated that she couldn’t fling open the windows to let the fresh air in. Sometimes she would grab her camera, jump into her car, and head to the nearby fields to snap photographs of the countryside: birds and butterflies, wild flowers, sheep, horses, whatever she could find – pictures she would often put on Facebook or Instagram.

‘Can you open that, please?’ She plonked the chilled bottle of wine she’d picked up from the off-licence in front of Jack on the worktop. ‘I desperately need a shower.’

He looked up from chopping vegetables. ‘Well hello there, Jack, how was your day?’

‘Sorry,’ she said, tickling their cat, Luna, under the chin before stroking her sleek, grey body. ‘I’m so, so hot. Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ She disappeared into the bedroom, stripping off her clothes, and dropping them as she went.

Fifteen minutes later she was back, in shorts and a T-shirt, damp hair scooped into a messy bun. She picked up the glass of wine that Jack had poured. ‘God, that’s better,’ she said, taking a swig. She smiled and touched Jack’s clean-shaven cheek. ‘Well, hello there, Jack. How was your day?’

He laughed and plonked a kiss on her nose. ‘Well, Tuesday’s done. I’ll be glad when I’m over hump Wednesday.’

‘Wednesday’s the new Thursday, and Thursday’s the new Friday.’

‘Must be the weekend then.’ He raised his glass. ‘Cheers.’

She pulled herself onto a stool. ‘I saw an old boyfriend on the train home. Trevor Cooper.’ The guilt of talking about the appeal made her want to tell Jack.

‘The bloke you went out with at uni?’

‘Aha.’