She could see a willow tree nodding at its own reflection in the dark water, a pair of regal swans carving a path through vivid green duckweed, and Crazy Diamond, a pretty, navy-blue boat with brass-framed porthole windows, her name a flourish of canary yellow on the bow. She could also see that the boat was empty; padlocks on the double doors and a tarpaulin pulled tight over the stern deck, but Ali waved off her new pal in the taxi, because she’d arrived at her destination and the fact that Dan wasn’t here was immaterial. She’d sort of known he wouldn’t be. It was Sunday, he’d be in Edinburgh, doing weekend things with Katelin, but for the time being, she had nowhere else to go, and no better idea than to stand in Blomfield Road and simply will him to appear, to saunter towards her along the tree-lined street, just as he would in the movies.

She lowered her rucksack on to the pavement so that she could rest against the black metal railings and study this idyllic place, and admire Crazy Diamond, and mourn her emptiness, her blank-eyed, dormant state. What had she expected? Of course Dan wasn’t here, and anyway, he probably hated her for humiliating him, and she couldn’t blame him for that, and she might never see him again, in spite of coming to him as he’d come to her. She was considering this bleak possibility when a languid, disembodied voice broke her desolate reverie. ‘Hey, babe? You’re Alison, right?’ and Ali spun round at the sound, although she didn’t really know where to look, and left or right, there wasn’t a soul on the towpath.

‘Up here, babe.’

And there she was, on the flat roof of the boat next door, partly obscured by the arching willows, a slender old lady with dip-dyed hair and dungarees, kohl-lined eyes, henna hands, bare feet, crossed legs, dozens of silver bangles on each wrist and a rope of azure beads wound around her throat. Lisa, thought Ali. Dan’s Lovely Lisa. She smiled, and Lisa smiled too.

‘You came,’ Lisa said, nodding sagely, as if she’d known all along.

‘I did.’

Lisa stood up and raised her arms into the air like a celebrant, and her multitude of bangles slid against each other with the chimes of tiny bells. ‘Welcome,’ she said, and she hopped lightly down from her perch on to the path. ‘You’ll stay with us, until Dan gets here.’

‘He doesn’t know I’m here,’ Ali said. She was mesmerised by Lisa, whose embrace smelled of patchouli oil, and whose bare feet were bejewelled with silver toe rings.

‘Then you must tell him,’ Lisa said. She took Ali’s hand and led her on to the foredeck of Ophelia. ‘Come, say hello to Frank.’