It took six months to get even a glimmer of the old Jamie back, but by then his friends had moved on. He deferred his uni place, then let the whole thing drop. He stayed at home in his room, insisting that smoking weed was the only thing that was keeping him straight. He slept every day until late afternoon and Maddy didn’t know what was worse: Trent’s fury at their son sleeping, or the resentful atmosphere Jamie created once he got up.

She writes a congratulatory message to Elise, then deletes it. Elise won’t want to be reminded of Maddy – and by association, Jamie.

Where’s Jamie now? she wonders. Is he having flashbacks to that horrible New Year that everything changed too? She wishes she could go back. She wishes she’d never let him go.

At a quarter to midnight, Maddy yearns for the oblivion of sleep, but she feels she can’t deal with the social embarrassment of ditching Matteo when he lives right next door. She spritzes her face, arranges the neck of her cashmere roll-neck and then goes to the spare room and fiddles with door.

Matteo is waiting on his balcony, the apartment behind him lit up. He’s wearing a nice jumper and a green moleskin jacket that complements his eyes. There’s some lovely Spanish guitar music playing. There’s a little table and he’s lit some candles in coloured jars, but he appears to be alone.

‘There you are. Here. Have a chair.’ He passes over a flimsy wooden and metal chair. She has no choice but to grab it and unfold it. ‘Oh, and take a candle,’ he adds, handing her a jam jar. He goes back inside and she surreptitiously snaps a picture of the candle and puts a filter on it. She’ll save it for later and try to think of a good caption. Perhaps something about the poor people who died of Covid? Not that she was affected personally, but it’ll make her sound like she’s a caring person. But even as she thinks this, she hates herself for being so shallow. She feels a wave of resentment towards Manpreet and her followers and for having to feed her site with this constant show of giving a shit.

‘And this,’ he adds, coming back with a bottle and two glasses. He’s made quite an effort, she realises. ‘It’s new year and I’m going early. And it’s the least I can do to thank you for taking Luna out. She’s been so much calmer this afternoon.’

He reaches over the balcony and gives her a glass of fizz with a smile. ‘My ex insisted on getting a puppy in lockdown, but she’s online all the time and it was impossible for her to work, so I’ve got Luna.’

So he is single. Single, and decent enough to help out his ex.

She raises a glass and takes a sip, then appraises the glass. ‘Wow, that’s delicious.’

‘It’s only Cava,’ he explains. ‘From my home town.’