‘Yeah, Zac,’ I said, thinking only of Biddy. I’d invited her to the housewarming on Josh and Mel’s behalf, just as I’d asked her out for a drink with Josh and me on Tuesday evening, just if she fancied it – we’d be at the Brunswick Green anyway. She hadn’t turned up by the time Josh told me he was tired, so I’d texted to say we’d called it a night. She’d replied: Lame!

Two days later, on the Thursday, I saw her at a book launch at my work. I’d not wanted to go, was pissed off that Sarah was out at the ballet with Zac, that Carly had to be summoned to Brunswick from Box Hill for an emergency babysitting stint, that I’d have to speak to her when I got home and tell her nothing about how fucking bonkers things were with Sarah and me, because that was Sarah’s prerogative, underscoring the fact that, when it came to it, Carly was Sarah’s mother, not mine, and that mine …

‘You’re like a son to me,’ Carly had said at my mother’s funeral.

‘I feel for you, mate,’ Chris had said, welling up. ‘I really do.’

While the first speaker steadied herself I pretended to read from my phone, looked up, saw Mel on the other side of the room. I’d texted her about the launch, thought the author might appeal to her … and Biddy.

Boom. Biddy. Mel was with …

I waved, no big thing. Biddy waved back, as did Mel, who still didn’t know … What? There was nothing to know.

I watched the launch, could only think about Biddy. From across the room I could see her jumper had holes in the elbows, didn’t mind that.

She and Mel approached me afterwards, while I was talking with Agnë.

‘Agnë, this is my friend, Mel. She’s a writer. And this is Biddy.’

‘That was a lucky coincidence,’ Biddy said, looking at me then Agnë. ‘I was having drinks with a work colleague in Moat when Mel walked past.’

I smiled at Agnë and Mel, watched Biddy in my peripheral vision.

Her scent of –

‘Did you like that, Chris?’ she said, pointing at the lectern.

‘The reading? Oh, yeah. Yeah. It was … I’m not a huge fan of fantasy, to be honest.’

Agnë said, ‘So, Mel, tell me what you’re working on.’

I leant towards Biddy. ‘I’ve got some weed. We could, if you wanted, you know …’

‘Smoke a joint? Yeah, sure.’

Ha. Yes. Look at me, everyone. I was someone who had weed in his work backpack, the old me, a countercultural icon. I checked the time on my phone – 8.30 – and texted Carly quickly: Home soon, everything OK?

My heart started pounding as we crossed the windy street. Even with Mel and Agnë alongside us like chaperones, it was exciting.