I wasn’t surprised; I was astonished. I’d had him down as being at least sixty.

‘Mrs Harris is insisting that we have a bash to commemorate the milestone, and I’d very much like to invite you to join us. It’s only at our house, nothing fancy. That’s in Chelsea, so not far . . . next Saturday, the seventeenth. I’ll send over the address to the reception email. OK . . . well, I don’t wish to keep you.’

Linda and Alison excelled with their sycophancy. ‘Oh, that’s marvellous, Dr Harris . . . Thank you, Dr Harris . . . Let me crawl up your arse and live there, Dr Harris.’

Then I realized you’d be going too, so joined in. ‘That sounds lovely, Dr Harris.’

My spirits raised, I decided it was now time to make your coffee.

‘Thank you, Constance. You couldn’t just pop it there, could you?’ You gestured to a space on the desk, beyond your diary, and sat back to watch me walk, place it carefully. ‘And then can you shut the door.’

I did as I was told, excited for the return of our clandestine interactions, whispered secrets.

‘It was good to see you the other night,’ you said.

‘Yes . . . yes, you too.’

You puffed your cheeks and blew like you were slowly extinguishing birthday candles. ‘What a crazy night . . . I’m still suffering.’ You took a sip of the coffee and pulled the same unimpressed face you did on that first day.

‘Sorry . . . You said strong, so I put a bit more—’

‘No . . . no, it’s fine . . . thank you.’ You smiled, but I didn’t believe it. ‘Listen, Constance . . . I’d have liked to have been able to chat longer, but you took your time, and now Mrs Rose is due any second. I just wanted to say . . . Well, I . . . I was pretty wasted on Friday . . . as I think you were too . . . and I . . . Well, I can’t remember much of what happened . . . and . . . Wow, this is embarrassing, but . . . we . . . we didn’t kiss, did we?’

I tried to compute what you’d said. Thinking I must have been confused, misheard. But you continued talking while removing files from the open bag lying at your feet.

‘I do remember you looking very sexy, though. So it wouldn’t be entirely my fault if we did kiss.’ You smiled again, as transparent as an insect’s wing. ‘But we’re in such a good place now, I’d hate to fuck up our friendship in any way.’

I latched on to the door handle behind my back for stability and finally sourced words. ‘So . . . you . . . you really don’t remember?’

Your head hung over the files that now lay on the desk. Your fingers pushed through your hair. ‘Oh God, we did, didn’t we?’

You swivelled to face me fully. Looked right at me. I attempted to search inside you, extract the truth from your concerned face. But I couldn’t.