‘Alison,’ he said. ‘There are going to be more emails from Michael, and more phone calls from Katelin, more demands, more explanations, more apologies, more tears. But there’s nothing we can’t deal with, and we’ll find a path through, and love each other, and show our families the way.’

Then the door of the pub swung open, and a blast of cold air made them both look round. An elderly man walked in, short and stocky, bald, with coarse, florid features, and Dan said, ‘Oh shit,’ just as the man said, ‘Ey, Dan Lawrence, I thought you must be dead.’

‘Who’s that?’ Alison whispered.

Dan was standing up now, and he said, ‘Oh, just some geezer who knew somebody who knew Joe Cocker. He got me an interview once, and thinks we’re colleagues now. I’d better have a word, but I’ll spare you the experience. I’ll be right back, OK?’ She nodded. He paused and looked at her, and said, ‘Keep the faith, right?’ as if she might change her mind while his back was turned, then he walked over to where the newcomer stood at the bar, and she could see Dan buying him a drink and giving him the time of day, and from time to time glancing back at Ali, to gauge her state of mind, interpret her expression.

He met her eyes each time he looked, because she kept her steady gaze on him. Oh, she didn’t want to cause him a moment’s concern! She didn’t want him to have to question her belief, not even for a fraction of a second. This was her overriding thought, among all the thoughts she had coursing through her mind: she wanted Daniel to be completely sure of her, to know with cast-iron certainty that he would never, ever again look round and find her gone. She picked up her phone from the table and quickly found a song for him, because that’s how their love had first found a voice, and she needed to affirm it now with something beautiful and peerless, soulful and serious; something to articulate this extraordinary welter of emotions, and her faith in him, and her own resolve.

She watched as he felt the buzz of his phone in the pocket of his jeans, watched him pull it out and take a look, and then – as if he was alone at the bar, not with a friend of a friend of Joe Cocker’s – watched him click on the link to hear Dusty Springfield, ‘I Close My Eyes’: mellow, intimate, perfectly judged. He turned to her, and for a moment they just held each other’s eyes across the room. Then he made some hasty excuse, and walked back to her with Dusty still singing, and when he reached Alison, he stooped to kiss her. ‘Thank you,’ he said.