I nod while I chew. She looks at me expectantly.

“How did you say that? Déliciose?” I massacre the French pronunciation.

“Close enough.” Camille grins.

“My husband cheated on me for almost as long as we were married,” Camille says. “So I have a pretty good idea of what you’re going through right now.”

We’ve finished our meals and polished off the first bottle of wine. Camille insisted I pick the second one and I’ve gone for a shiraz she seems to approve of. Conversation has been light and, so far, I’ve only managed to extract that she is, indeed, recently divorced from a man. Her current statement comes out of the blue, just after Thomas has cleared away our plates.

“How long were you married?” I ask.

“Twenty-six very long years.”

“Blimey.” I’m tipsy enough to have the audacity to ask the more probing questions now. “Were you ever happy in your marriage?”

“The first few years, I was. I didn’t yet know about his philandering. We had our children.” Her voice sounds a little deeper, devoid of its previous lightness. “That was a good time.”

“Why did you stay with him for so long?”

“Because I was young and stupid and naive. Mainly stupid, though.” She sips from her wine again, clearly eager to continue the Drink part of her journey. “Like all things in life, it was complicated. Well, at least I believed it was. Jean-Claude was a very promising politician. Older than me and already very much on the rise when we met and then married.” She waves her hand. “It’s a really long story I don’t feel like talking about on this lovely evening… in lovely company.” She straightens her posture.

“Why did you ask me out?” I study her face while I wait for her reply. The skin in the corner of her eyes crinkles.

“Because I was very charmed by you and I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t at least asked. I hadn’t really expected you to say yes, after what I found out about your recent break-up.”

“It has been six months. That’s half a year.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. “When I got your text, I believed it was because you had your suspicions confirmed that I’m a lesbian.”

“That too.” She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth for a second. “From doing a bit of research on you, I believed we had quite a few things in common.”

I try to phrase my next question as tactfully as possible. “But you were married to a man for twenty-six years.”

“Correct.” She pauses. “Emphasis on were.”