Once all the boxes were sitting by the front door of my apartment block, we took it in turns to ferry them upstairs. This last load we take together, and by the time we reach my door I know I have sweat on my forehead (and fear I also have some on my upper lip).

I’m breathing more heavily than I’d hoped, but stairs have always been my nemesis. The additional weight from the boxes is making them even worse.

We both put our boxes down wherever we can find space, and I do what I hope is a subtle sweat-wipe. I can hear Peter panting too, which makes me feel better.

He looks at me and makes a face as if he’s in pain.

‘Drink?’ I gasp.

‘Yes, please.’

I run through the options in my head. ‘Water?’ I wish I had something more exciting to give him. Water seems like a measly offering, especially after all the help he’s given me. ‘I might have some squash.’

He shakes his head. ‘Water would be great. Thank you.’

I run the tap so it gets cold, reach for two glasses, fill one and pass it to him. He downs it, so I refill it. Again, it’s gone before I’ve even managed to start on mine.

God, he even drinks well. How can someone drink well?

It’s his hands. He has really good hands.

‘Bea?’

I jolt back into reality. ‘Huh?’

‘You OK?’

‘Yes. Sorry, I’m just so tired.’ And confused. Very confused.

‘I’ll go.’

‘Oh no, you don’t have to.’ Even as I say it, I think he does need to go.

He puts the glass down. ‘Do you want to grab a quick dinner?’

Faced with the potential of him actually staying, all of a sudden I feel the need to get him out of my apartment as quickly as possible. I put down my glass and stand up straight.

‘On second thoughts, I am actually really tired. You’ve been great, but all I can handle right now is my pyjamas. I don’t have the energy to go back outside into the world.’

‘You sure?’

No. ‘Yes. Please, I can’t be around people for any more of the day.’

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’m not “people”.’

Shit.

‘Peter, I—’

‘Bea, it’s OK.’ He looks down at the floor. ‘You’ve had a really long day and I get it.’ Then he looks back up at me. ‘But I’m not just people, I’m one of your best friends. I’m always here for you, and I’m not going to stop being here, even if you get grumpy or snap at me because you’ve had enough of me for the day.’

‘No, that’s not it, I could never have enough of you.’ Shit. What was that? ‘I mean …’ Yes, Bea, what do you mean? ‘I mean … thank you. Not many people would have come to help today, and not only did you help, but you were also really great at it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to pay you back.’