‘Can I get you some water?’ I say. ‘Or anything else?’ I make sure to keep my hand on his arm, grounding him. That’s the most important thing. I’m quite amazed at how calm I am being, how well I manage to seem in control.

‘If we can get out of here,’ Alastair says. He’s managed to lift his head a bit. ‘The noise … and it’s so crowded … is there somewhere we can go, a bit of space, a park, anywhere like that? That’s what has always helped me before.’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Of course. Can you stand up? I know a place, it’s only a few minutes, if you can walk there with me?’

‘Yes, thank you. Jenn, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s fine. Honestly, please don’t be embarrassed.’ I’d hate for him to feel the shame I’ve felt. I let go of his arm, just for a moment, to dig some money out of my bag. I push all the cash I have – a ten-pound note and a five – under a plate on the table, in among our unfinished meals. Alastair has got his bag now too. He’s upright now, if unsteady on his feet. His face is so shockingly pale.

Instinctively, I hold out a hand to him, the way I would for a small child. With Charlie. Just as instinctively, Alastair takes it, gripping almost more tightly than I can bear. At the same time, the contact of our palms sends little shocks through me, my skin tingling, nerves singing, my system so starved of human touch.

Brockwell Park is really no distance away. We zigzag our way up the road together, his hand in mine, my hand in his. I lead him through the little entrance gate on this side and, as soon as we enter, I can feel Alastair relax. His hand loosens its grip on mine – though doesn’t let go. ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘Yes, this is perfect. I’ll be all right in a minute, I swear. I just need … to get a proper breath.’

‘We can sit down? Here, or keep walking?’

Alastair points to a bench a little way up the hill. ‘There. Let’s walk to there, and then sit down. Thank you. God, I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am.’

‘Please, honestly, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been there … I understand. I’ve had anxiety attacks before.’

Alastair nods. ‘Thank you for saying that. Here, okay, I’m going to sit down.’

We both sink down. The bench is warm from the spring sunshine. I can feel the heat soaking into my legs. Somehow, we are still holding hands.