‘I don’t know. Of Selina having you all to herself. I suppose I’d started to think of you as mine. That’s ridiculous, right? We work together all day, I spend more hours with you than most married couples, and yet those evenings when we walked away from work and were just friends kept me going. Having dinner, spending hours talking rubbish over coffee on a Saturday morning, watching films at 2 a.m. Then suddenly there was someone else in your life, and I hated it. God, this is dreadful. Apparently, feeling morbid also makes me horribly honest. I intend to get drunk. Call me a cab before 2 a.m., okay?’

‘Why didn’t you talk to me about it before now? We’ve always been able to discuss anything.’

‘Oh, right, silly me. I should have just called you into my office, forgetting the uncomfortable fact that I’m your boss, and said, “Hey, Luc, could you ditch the beautiful, leggy Spanish doctor. I’m feeling a bit put out by her.” Because that would have been an easy conversation to have had.’

‘Does it help for me to tell you I felt the same when you were with Joe? I hated him from the start and that had virtually nothing to do with the fact that he was a pretentious, arrogant bastard. All I could see was that he took you away from me.’

Ava tossed back the whisky, pushed the glass onto the coffee table and covered her face with her hands.

‘Really? You had to bring up Joe? What was I thinking? That just proves the point – my private life really is an unmitigated disaster. Always has been. Catch a vicious psychopath? Sure, no problem. Find a decent man to wake up with in the morning? Fails the course, last in her class, displays no natural aptitude.’

‘I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself,’ he laughed.

‘Make up your mind. I thought my speciality was self-pity.’ Ava poured herself another measure of Balvenie.

They sat in silence, appreciating the skill that went into blending the Scotch, glancing at one another occasionally.

Callanach sighed deeply then smiled. ‘You want some painful honesty? I can beat you hands down. I never slept with Selina. Not once, in all the months we were together.’

Ava stopped her glass halfway to her mouth, staring at it as if it were alive.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ she asked eventually.

‘It’s true. I mean, we did other stuff, I’m no monk, but there was no – I forget the English word – consume?’

‘Consummation,’ Ava corrected him.

He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the crumpled pack of Gauloises cigarettes he carried with him everywhere as a testament to his smoking days. Ava smiled as he shoved an unlit stick into his mouth, tasting tobacco without the satisfaction – or danger – of breathing smoke in and out.

‘Why not?’ Ava asked.