‘I’m glad you could squeeze me in for a drink,’ he replied, completely in command of his extensive vocabulary. The words I wanted hovered on the edges of my mind but every time I reached for them, they were replaced by a clown intermittently blowing a trombone and shouting ‘YOU LOVE HIM’ at the top of its voice.

‘Yes,’ I said, making myself say something, anything, before I gave up and mounted him in the middle of the street. ‘I squeezed you in.’

Practically poetry.

Now we were outside in the warm evening light, I could see him a little bit better. There was a scattering of salt and pepper in his hair, just around the temple and lines running down his cheeks, brackets for his smile, but they only added to the appeal. I waged war on my own burgeoning laughter lines, drowning them in the most expensive lotion or potion I could afford at any given time, but on him, they looked good. I studied them carefully, wondering who had made him smile, who had made him laugh, what moment was responsible for each and every new mark on his face. Physical manifestations of the three extra years of Patrick the rest of the world had enjoyed while I had missed out.

‘So, how have you been?’ he asked, his voice already husky and whisky-tinged.

‘OK, no, I can’t, I’m sorry, I thought I could but I can’t,’ I blustered, spinning around to rest my wine glass on the closest window ledge and only just managing to catch it when it immediately fell off. I spun back to face him. ‘What’s going on? What is this? What are we doing?’

Patrick knitted his eyebrows together and gave me a pleasant, questioning look.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What’s going on here?’ I asked, waving at the space between us. ‘With us?’

‘Oh.’ He leaned past me to put down his glass, placing it next to mine on the ledge. His glass did not fall.

‘I mean, I’m very happy to see you,’ I said, all the words that had been MIA now pouring out of me like they might never stop. ‘And I was so pleased when you messaged me but I’m a bit confused because it’s been forever and we haven’t been in touch and I just need to know what this is, because you said you didn’t want to see me again but here we are.’

I took a sharp breath in as though I might add to my speech but instead my mouth snapped shut and I waited for him to speak.

‘Ros,’ he started slowly. ‘You messaged me, I messaged you and now we’re here. I hadn’t really thought past wanting to see you.’

‘I sent a group text, you know,’ I replied. ‘To everyone.’

‘Sure,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘OK.’