‘What about you?’

‘I’ve got somewhere I need to be tonight. You two can have a girls’ night in.’

After I’ve ordered the food, I leave. I was lying. I’ve got nowhere to go, nothing to do. I mooch about, buy a slice of pizza and sit on the amphitheatre steps, watching the skateboarders, then peer up at the penthouse, hoping everything has calmed down.

Turns out I don’t have an appetite, so I drink beer instead. Only one. I don’t want Angelica to smell it on my breath when I get back. Though she couldn’t disapprove of me any more than she already does.

I did the right thing, leaving Casey and Angelica alone for the evening. I don’t know if I’d have thought of that, if I hadn’t channelled Gemma and the kindness she showed me that day on the way to the hospital . . .

Gemma. It’s like I become a better version of myself when she’s around, or even when I imagine her watching me.

Shall I call her? I could do it right now: Casey took a group selfie, including Bear, and sent it to us on WhatsApp. So I have Gemma’s number.

No. I shouldn’t use it. That’s creepy. And she’s a widow, and even if she did want something to happen between us, it’d end up complicated; and complicated is what I’ve spent most of my life trying to avoid.

But when I zoom in on the image so her face fills the screen, I have no doubt: I want to see her again. Soon.

Before I can change my mind, I begin to type a message into my notes app. I want the spelling and punctuation to be correct, to be my funniest Dan the Man version of myself.

Except . . . Gemma doesn’t need fake charm or a sassy chat-up line. She needs honesty. So I start typing directly into WhatsApp and press Enter before I can edit:

I loved spending time with you today. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I know it feels good. Would you like to see what happens next?

Chapter 16: Gemma

Thursday 12 July

‘There’s no polite way of asking this, but did the hormones you took to conceive Zach make you horny?’

My sister laughs so loudly that people in the cafe look round to see what’s wrong. When they realize it’s Laura, they shrug. This place serves as an unofficial police canteen, so it’s mostly her colleagues, and they know what she’s like.

‘I was not expecting that.’ She stirs her tea with its three fortifying sugars. ‘It seems like a lifetime ago, but I don’t think so. What’s the deal? Have you turned into a nymphomaniac?’

The server delivers a plate of egg, chips and beans to Laura and a toasted teacake to me: with its meagre dried-fruit content, it’s the healthiest thing I could find on the menu. But I’ve zero appetite because . . .

‘I’ve been asked out. On a date. Kind of.’