‘No. It’s all fine.’ He stared out of the window at a field of seated cows. ‘Must be going to rain.’

‘James!’

‘I’ve just … I’ve been really stressed with work,’ he mumbled. ‘This threat of recession isn’t great for anyone. It’ll calm down again, I promise.’

‘Look, you know I love spending time with the kids – of course I do. But, you know … ‘ There were sudden tears in my eyes. I blinked them away furiously. ‘You didn’t even want me to drop you at the airport today.’

‘I just didn’t want you to be bothered with it,’ he mumbled uncomfortably.

I took another deep breath. ‘I’m lonely, J.’

This would be the moment he turned to me and said, oh God, I’m sorry, darling, I love you so much, it’ll be like it used to, I know I never see you, speak to you, pay you any attention, want to make love to you or even just cuddle you.

‘So you thought you’d get all cosy with bloody Xavier again,’ he snarled.

‘Don’t shout at me, please, James.’

‘I’m not shouting,’ he shouted.

There was a long pause.

‘Sorry,’ he said eventually. I could tell from his slumped bearing that he felt ashamed. ‘I just – I thought you’d left all that behind you. You write your stuff for the Chronicle. Isn’t that enough?’

I thought of Edna’s marrows and smiled wryly. ‘I suppose it’s a bit like you not doing Revolver or the label but opening a disco in Burford. You might enjoy it, but it wouldn’t be the same buzz.’

‘I suppose.’

I ploughed on. ‘The twins are in nursery every morning now. I just … Xav rang me, and I thought – I don’t know – I just wanted to use my brain again, I suppose. And it’s important people know the truth. That it’s reported right.’

‘You’re addicted, you mean. You replaced one addiction with another.’

‘I didn’t.’ But his words made me start. I was addicted – he was right – only I wasn’t going to admit it now. ‘I’m not really. I just miss it sometimes.’

‘But,’ James put his hand on mine. He touched me so infrequently these days the contact was almost a shock. ‘But you know what happened last time.’

‘Yes I know. But it was a one-off. I was unlucky.’

‘And before that? You were nearly bloody killed in LA.’

I’d been following the Vice Squad out there; I was in the wrong place at the wrong time during a gangland shoot-out. A police officer and a fifteen-year-old boy had been killed, the boy lying in a pool of his own blood whilst his mother sobbed piteously, cradling his head in her lap.

‘You’re not doing it, Rose.’

I slid my hand away. ‘What?’