Flora runs ahead up the stairs, she has to get there before anyone else does. If she can speak to him for just a little while on their own – she’ll know whether to leave Scotland for good or not. 2F2. Tap lightly. He answers like he’s been stood there waiting ever since she left. There he is. Just like that. Eternity. His eyes are still just as familiar as her own.

– Flora, I didn’t know if you would…

– Why?

They both know why.

He lets the door swing wide.

Go past his arms. Heat. The flat smells exactly the same. Apples and oiled wooden floors. Scented baths. Copious pots of tea. Under all of that there is the smell of him. His skin. A memory of his mouth on hers keeps her eyes averted. She does not want to think about how every time she tipped over the edge he would kiss her with his tongue further into her mouth and somehow dirtier than any of the other kisses they ever shared.

– Is your wife coming?

– Don’t be crazy.

– How many guests do you expect for your private drag ball, señor?

– A very select sixty. Will you help me with the drinks?

– That’s why you asked me to come?

– No!

Flora looks around the flat, remembers places they have fallen to the floor, held each other asleep, there is still a small chip on the kitchen doorframe where she threw a plate at him one time. He’s finally started doing the place up though, it’s not so bare as it used to be.

– Where will everyone get changed?

– My bedroom, I’ve put a little hanging rail in there, a mirror, it’s – nicer.

A grin.

– Have you missed me, Flora?

– No.

– Thought about me?

– Not once, you?

– No, he says.

– All moved on?

– Completely.

– New girlfriend?

– Aye.

– Does she have a nice cock?

– No, she does not have a nice cock.

– That’s a shame.

Flora smiles despite herself.

– It is, he says.

– She’s not like me, then?

– Nobody’s like you, Flora, and fine well you know it.

Music is playing. He holds his arms out to her.

– One dance? First…

– You need to get the place ready.

– We have a few hours. Come here, Flora – please.