‘So your work is more important than mine, is that it?’ he asked, his words hot. ‘I’ve got to say, I don’t remember you being this needy. You used to be a lot more easygoing and, I have to say, a lot more respectful of my writing.’

‘I am respectful of your writing!’ I exclaimed, wincing as I strained the six-inch scratch that now ran along my midriff. ‘I’m incredibly respectful of your writing. But you said you would come to this, you asked me to pick you up and now you’re just not coming? How would you feel if it was me constantly letting you down? This is really important to me.’

Patrick turned and slammed the neighbour’s gate closed with an almighty bang.

‘Everything is really important to you,’ he snapped. ‘It was important to you I be at Lucy’s baby shower, it’s important to you I be at your mum and dad’s ridiculous second wedding and it was important to you that I be at Sumi’s bloody birthday, even though my being there was so important to your friends that they’d already fucked off home when I got there.’

‘You were three hours late!’ I shouted back. Inside, I saw the net curtains flinch as Julian backed away from the windows. ‘You were three hours late but you said you were working, so I understood. And please don’t shit on my parents because that’s incredibly rude. I haven’t asked you to do anything out of the ordinary, I haven’t asked you to do anything I wouldn’t do for you.’

‘And there’s the difference, I wouldn’t ask you to do any of this,’ he replied, head held high as we fought for the moral high ground. ‘Did I make you come to my dad’s birthday last Sunday? No.’

I shook my own head in disbelief. ‘I would have loved to have gone with you to your dad’s birthday! You told me you had to work Sunday night.’

‘Can you lower your voice?’ he hissed, looking over his shoulder at the completely empty street. ‘You’re being hysterical.’

‘No, I’m not hysterical, don’t be that man,’ I replied, my senses white hot. I felt focused, I felt clear. ‘This is what angry looks like, get used to it. I don’t think it’s going to be the last time you ever see it.’

He rolled his eyes and glanced back at the house to make sure his precious publisher wasn’t listening. He absolutely was. ‘All this because I’m not coming to your work thing? You should see yourself.’

I was, in fairness, very glad I could not see myself. I could feel myself and smell myself and that was bad enough.