As to why he loved her, thought Adam, who can ever answer that question completely? He knew he loved her for her courage and her honesty; her enthusiasm and sense of joy; the bursts of generosity that were uneasily twinned with selfishness and the laughter that was never far away; for her ability– so lacking in himself, he thought – to create excitement, and of course for her beauty; but above all he just loved her for being Louisa. Always had. Always would.

He tried not to ring her too often though she usually sounded pleased to hear him. If she rang him – which she did surprisingly often for someone who had said she wanted a complete break – and left a message on his answerphone, he would play the message, however mundane, again and again just to hear her voice, that light, amused voice he loved so much. If I had more guile – or sense – thought Adam, I wouldn’t ring her so often, I’d keep her guessing. But the theory was so much easier than the practice, and though he despised himself for giving in to temptation he knew he would be dialling her mobile in his lunch hour to find out how the course at Glendrochatt was going.

Louisa was sitting in the kitchen chatting to Isobel when Adam rang. She fished in the pocket of her jeans for her mobile, stretched her enviably long legs out on the big squashy sofa at the end of the room and prepared for a pleasurable exchange of news. Despite her craving for excitement and for new experiences and also, she hoped, for a new relationship, it was unthinkable that she should not know what was going on in Adam’s life. She enquired about his work and about various mutual friends. They asked after each other’s families; they talked about Mr Brown, whom Adam promised to visit when he went to Yorkshire the following weekend. If Louisa’s parents should happen to be away when she was away too, he’d agreed to have Mr Brown in London, as he and Louisa had often done in the past.

‘Oh, Adam, talking of Mr Brown,’ she said, ‘we all had to write about a really important person or event in our lives as our first exercise. I wrote about you giving me Mr Brown and how that not only changed my life but literally saved it.’ Adam felt his throat constrict, more moved than he cared to let on. Could he have judged things wrongly? Could this be a tentative overture from Louisa signalling the possibility that she might be having a change of heart? He schooled himself not to reveal the small spark of hope her words kindled.

‘How’s the writing going?’ he asked.