‘Well then,’ he said, and turned away. Then turned back. ‘For the record, she’s very cute. She’s also rather needy and a bit immature. Do you really think that’s my type?’

‘No … I never said …’

‘Well then,’ he repeated.

‘I don’t blame you for fancying her,’ I said, ‘not at all. She’s got something, she is young and, not pretty exactly but she’s got something …’

‘What!’ he burst out. ‘I do not fancy her!’

‘Well, she certainly fancies you, don’t tell me you didn’t notice, and you looked like you were quite enjoying it.’

‘Yeah, well, if you think that, you’re paranoid. You probably think that every woman who looks at me fancies me.’

‘I’m not, I …’ I couldn’t explain what I meant. I had seen how they talked at my birthday, heads inclined towards one another. Of course they fancied each other. That was all I meant. I didn’t mean I thought they fancied each other, and were plotting behind my back to sleep with each other. They just fancied each other. It was an observation. ‘I saw you. Look, I’m not stupid, I could just see it, that’s all.’

‘You were really drunk that night,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t trust your own recollection if I were you.’ As he walked back into the bedroom he said, ‘Honestly, Lisa, the hospital is wall to wall pretty young nurses, I work with them every day, and if I was going to go for one of them I’d have more sense than to choose one that was your best friend’s kid sister, believe you me.’

*

The new thing always makes the old thing look dowdy. It doesn’t matter if the old thing is better looking, more intelligent, more interesting. The new thing has something with which the old thing can never compete and it’s a quality that casts a magic glow over every glance and smile, every small gesture – it even makes tripping up in the street seem charming and hilarious. It’s called novelty.

*

The following weekend, it was icily cold with brilliant sunshine and we went for a walk down to the river. We sat by the river on a patch of scrubby ground that sloped up sharply above the path. The occasional dog walker passed by. It was cold and I didn’t want to sit for long but the unexpected sunshine felt like such a gift, so desperate are we all by the end of February. Matty picked up two brown stones from the patch of meagre grass between us. ‘Give me your bag,’ he said.

‘Why?’ I asked.

He held out his palm. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘It’s a Lisa pebble and a Matthew pebble. We can put them on the mantelpiece.’

‘We haven’t got a mantelpiece.’