‘Fine, it’s been a slow summer and I haven’t had any offers,’ he admitted. ‘But please come, it’s their ruby wedding anniversary, it’s a big deal. There’s going to be an ungodly amount of food and drink and you know you want to.’

I really didn’t want to but I couldn’t say no. It wasn’t as if I had anything else to do and Adrian would cross hot coals for me if I asked.

‘Ros?’ he wheedled. He took one last draw on his cigarette, stamping it out as a black Prius with a glowing Uber badge pulled up beside us. I let out a very heavy sigh and nodded. ‘Fantastic,’ he said as he opened the car door and hopped inside. ‘Come any time after seven, can’t wait. See you Saturday.’

Without the money for a taxi, I wandered back down the street towards the tube station. It had been so good to see my friends but I couldn’t help but feel a little empty as I took myself off home instead of linking arms with the others and laughing all the way back to our shared house. The late-night milk runs, doing our makeup in each other’s rooms, snuggling up together on the sofa to watch a film. I couldn’t think of a time that I’d been happier. Now they had new homes to go to, new partners to snuggle up with. But not me.

Just like everyone else who happened to be walking alone down a busy city street at ten o’clock on a Tuesday night, I automatically slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I was still getting replies to my texts: my great-aunt who hadn’t realized I’d been away, my university friend Alison who wanted to know if I’d accepted Jesus as my Lord and Saviour since the last time she’d seen me (at our ten-year reunion with me hugging one of the student union toilets after a regrettable pint of snakebite and black). I wondered what new messages might have arrived since I’d last checked.

And then I saw it.

My heart pounded, my stomach lurched and I started to sweat, a horrible conviction that I was about to see the hake pancake again washing over me. I stuttered out of the flow of people on the street and leaned against a cold stone wall, staring at my phone, quite sure I was seeing things, quite sure it would disappear. But it didn’t. It stayed right where it was, shining up at me and willing me to open it.

I held my breath.

I opened the message.

Two words.

Hello, stranger

The text was from Patrick.

CHAPTER SIX

Everyone has a Patrick.