He rose, causing Doggo to bound to his feet too, and went into his own room. It hadn’t seen heavy use before he arrived and, decorated in cream, brown and blue was a pleasant enough place to live. It looked over the car park and the playing fields. With not much in the way of household tasks to weigh him down and no girlfriend to worry about he was enjoying an uncluttered style of living. Much of his personal stuff was stored in Flora’s loft and he’d worked things out with Hayley financially rather than take any of their furniture. His career-in-waiting as an outdoor pursuits instructor would take him to pastures new and would include staff accommodation.

Beyond work, Isaac was pretty isolated these days. The mates from before he met Hayley had faded away over the years. Although initially intrigued by his glam older girlfriend, his friends had come to think that Hayley was too focused on her career and what it brought her and that Isaac had grown the same, especially once he was running his own business. He’d seen it more as going into a shared future and increasing his capacity to earn … but all that had been before he’d failed to meet Hayley’s gold standard, of course.

She certainly had exhibited no need of his friends. Her own good friends numbered just Vicky and Nicola, a pair of sisters who were so similar to each other and to Hayley in dress and attitudes that they might as well have been one person. Hayley had been tight with them since uni days when her own parents had died and she’d spent a lot of holidays at their home. Vicky had a husband, Adie, and Nicola a Colombian boyfriend called Javier, but though Isaac had got along OK with all of them, he wasn’t in touch post break-up.

It was nice to have an excitedly wagging Doggo around for company. Isaac pulled on boots and a jacket and threaded Doggo into his harness. He slid his map into a plastic sleeve and clipped it to a lightweight backpack containing hat and gloves and added a couple of water bottles, enough for Doggo too, though Doggo generally seemed to prefer puddles. Plugging his earphones into his phone he found his ‘walking’ playlist, then jogged downstairs and out of the door at the side of the building to the rousing sound of ‘Goldfinger’, heart lifting to be striding out, first across the playing fields and then over Port Road and onto the first bridleway. He let Doggo’s lead reel out and picked up his pace, the chill air nipping at his ears.