After visiting the cemetery, Biddy had suggested we compile a similar list for each other and text it to each other on the same day at the same time before seeing what the other had written.

Taking a somewhat minimalist approach, I’d texted at noon two days later: So, you are authentic, intelligent, funny, vivacious, strong, mesmerising, playful, generous, sexy, kind, empathetic, original, emotional, artistic, harmonious, talented, respectful, forgiving, entertaining, warm, loyal, affectionate, tactile, trustworthy, companionable, charming, confident, diplomatic, exciting, playful, adventurous, openminded.

I’d started a similar list for Sarah, quickly lost heart. There was so much binding us, so much I admired. It wasn’t all about sex. It was all about sex. It wasn’t. There was more to us than that. No, there wasn’t. There was, there really was, but it could only be accessed through boning.

The morning’s adrenaline washing back out to sea, the crater it left behind. I logged into my computer, got my phone from my bag, scrolled back through Biddy’s messages for her list.

You are really funny. You make me –

Agnë was standing over me. ‘Trouble getting in this morning, Chris?’

‘Yeah, parenting issues.’

Agnë wasn’t my line manager. I could have shouted, ‘You’re not the boss of me.’ But then she might tell my actual boss who, amazingly, hadn’t picked up on the fact I’d done nothing for months.

Agnë smiled, nodded. ‘In Lithuania, we have an expression – When the door closes, the window opens.’

‘Oh yeah? Oh, hey, I have to reply to a work email someone’s just sent me.’

‘Of course.’ She turned, walked off.

I was being paid for nothing. I was nothing. My wife was with another man, there was a used condom in our bin.

Biddy’s love was keeping me afloat, but it was also heavy, dragging me under.

My elbows on the desk. Scrolling. Scrolling. Biddy’s text: You make me laugh with your often silly humour, ridiculous imagination, impromptu storytelling and quick wit. I love your beautiful –

Her beautiful … My palms were sweating …

Her text: Your smile, which lights up your face and makes your eyes so warm and makes me feel like I’m winning a prize every time it’s turned to me. You are really kind. You have integrity. You are open and –

I got up from my desk, boom, walked casually through to the bathroom, closed the door, sat on the toilet. What was wrong with me? Breathe. Tightness in my chest, scrambled signals in my body, my brain. Breathe. Was I dying? Was I dying? I was dying.

Biddy’s text: I value your opinion about everything, as you think about things deeply and can provide clarity and insight into situations and ideas. You listen to people. Your complete trustworthiness.

Breathe, Chris. Boom. Not here. Not at work. The kids, Chris. Sophie. Oliver.