I stood at the work printer on Monday morning, willing it to go faster. My excuse, if my boss came through and caught me, was … I didn’t have one. Another page, another, there were forty-one in total, two weeks of work, come on. This was version three, and hopefully the last. V1 and V2 were buried deep in the recycling bin. Thirty-two, thirty-three – I should have printed double-sided. Someone was … nobody was coming. The familiar sliding sound, a click, the internal drawer readjusting. It was done.

I took the pages from the tray, bashed them into a nice pile, had a quick … The weird spacings on pages two and sixteen were gone. The screenshots weren’t forcing the funny break on page nine that had damaged the overall aesthetic of V2. I’d agonised over the font, maybe – hopefully – made the right choice.

My watch, 11.23 am. People took lunchbreaks at 11.23, didn’t they? I was a person. I was taking a break.

I took a bulldog clip from the stationery drawer, an A4 manila envelope, slid V3 inside. I was home free.

Agnë smiled as I passed her desk. ‘Busy day,’ I said, turning, winking.

I hurried down the forecourt stairs, envelope and bike helmet in hand, texted Biddy: There in five X

She was straddling her Lekker outside the Arts Centre, her tweed riding helmet, her tight black jeans, reading her new kintsugi book for a project she was being unusually coy about. She looked up – smile, a hug – put the book in her bag. A kiss. A rumble.

‘Have you eaten?’ I said. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Didn’t you have breakfast?’

‘I’ve been busy,’ I said, handing her the envelope.

She pulled out the stack, stroked the cover sheet – Zac Batista – smiled, flicked through some more pages, let them fall back into place. ‘Oh my god, Chris, this is so sexy.’

‘Sexy?’

‘Chris, look at the font you’ve used.’

‘Oh, you like the font?’

‘I love it.’ She leant forwards on her bike seat, kissed me again.

Kudos.

‘You sure this is a good idea?’ I said.

‘I reckon.’

I rode in her slipstream towards the police station – ya, boy, ya. She’d been at my house the past two evenings. She and Sarah were … It was heartening to see them both, feel them both, have them both there. The condom issue, it had passed, no hard feelings or herpes.

Sarah had fought Zac’s corner at first, couldn’t believe what Biddy and I were showing and telling her. I didn’t blame her – it was unbelievable. But I believed in her, believed in Biddy. We were all on board now, together, full steam ahead.

Biddy slowed to a halt outside the police station. We chained our bikes together, stood. My hands were clammy.

She hugged me. ‘I’m proud of you, beauty. This is the right thing to do.’