‘Well he asked me to pick it up for him, so I’ll assume he knows his own mind,’ Lorcan said, with more than a hint of snark about him.

‘Well, if there’s one thing Harry Gallagher knows, it’s his own mind,’ Libby replied, just as Clara tugged on Jo’s coat to hurry her along to the park.

‘Everybody really does stick their nose in everyone else’s business around here, don’t they?’ Jo heard Lorcan say as she opened the door and left the shop.

Nope. She really didn’t think she was going to be a fan of Lorcan Gallagher any time soon.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Jo got home, a very tired Clara at her side. They had indeed gone to the park, and then to Jo’s flat to have lunch with Erin, and after that they had taken Paddy for a walk.

In the end, Clara had pleaded with Jo to take her home as her feet were sore and she was tired. Jo, however, had not been tired, despite her lack of sleep, and had needed to walk off her nerves at the thought of Ewan McLachlan reading her book. This had combined with extreme annoyance at Lorcan for buying a latte for Harry, and then, in a final twist, it had transformed to upset at Erin for falling in love and leaving her homeless.

While lunch at the flat had been very tasty – there were certain perks to living with a chef – it had also been awkward. Jo found it hard to focus on her conversation with Erin, or Clara, when all she could think about was that she would have to pack all of her belongings up and move somewhere else. They’d had so many happy times there. Some awful times too, it had to be said. The occasional row. Nursing each other through a particularly horrific bout of food poisoning and a relationship break-up that had led to many late-night chats and crying sessions. But the majority of her memories of this place were positive.

Of course, Jo had always known the time would come when they would move on with their lives, but she just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. And she expected to have had some sort of control over it. That, she’d realised, as she stomped along the riverbanks with Paddy, was what ate at her most. The absolute, total lack of control. About her home. About her work. Whilst her friends all seemed to be perfectly settled and sorted, with their businesses and relationships and talk of wanting babies.

By the time she got home, the exhaustion had started to wash over her. She was too tired to even worry about Ewan McLachlan reading her book. She slumped down onto the armchair while Clara kicked off her shoes and, her tiredness forgotten, ran to her room to play with her toys.