He says, ‘Sadie, would you like to come home with me?’

I think about this and the thought makes my veins feel as though they are running with honey, not vodka and ice.

I begin composing a sentence. ‘Mr Rainbird …’ I say by mistake. Of course I know his name. It’s just that up until now, in my head, he has stayed partly connected to school and Jack and a public role, and I have used this to keep my distance from him.

He puts one finger over my lips, silencing me. ‘I have just asked you to come to bed with me. It’s all right to use my first name.’

Laughter begins in the pit of my stomach and bubbles upwards. Somewhere a thread is severed and his teacher persona drifts away out of my consciousness.

‘It’s Paul, by the way,’ he adds considerately.

‘I know,’ I insist, but I can hardly get the words out. Suddenly we are both laughing so hard that we have to hold each other up. I laugh with my cheek against his shoulder and he cups my head with his hand, so I can hear the gusts of laughter rising in his chest.

SIXTEEN

You don’t forget how to make love, I discover, any more than you forget how to laugh. It’s just that lately I haven’t been doing enough of either.

Tonight, though, goes some way towards making up the shortfall.

I lie in Paul Rainbird’s arms, salved by slippery skin against skin, after an interlude of eager touch and taste that has made me cry and laugh, with my eyes shut and my mouth open against his. My heartbeat slows and steadies, and I imagine that it matches his, beat for beat. I can tell from his breathing that he is still awake and listening, like me, to the night noises from beyond the open windows. There are sirens, speeding cars and slamming doors, voices shouting in the distance and footsteps closer at hand. The city is simmering, threatening to boil over, but this room contains its own tiny calm world. I feel as though I am lying stretched out on a smooth, sun-warmed rock. Paul’s fingers twined in my hair are like strands of seaweed, anchoring me close to the murmuring sea. Everything is clean and salty. In here the night noises are as distant and unthreatening as the cries of seabirds. Gulls, terns and guillemots, Jack would say.

Even the thought of Jack slides through my head without making me need to roll on my side or draw up my knees to ease the stab of anxiety.