‘I don’t think right and wrong really come into it any more. I just thought you ought to know. In case you were . . . interested.’

Victoria snapped back into focus. ‘In case I was thinking of looking Massimo up and telling him that he had a new little bambino back in good old London, is that it? In case I was so desperate for his money that I would take him back no matter what. Is that what you really think of me?’

Yes.

‘No. But I know you and Massimo were . . . well, for a long time you were . . .’

‘You know nothing about it whatsoever.’

The baby started to cry. Victoria stared at Christine.

‘Nothing at all.’

‘He’s crying, Victoria.’

‘I know!’ screamed Victoria, all her frustration boiling up as she brought two fists smashing down on to her knees. Thank God you’re here, she thought. If I was alone, I might hurt the baby.

It was at this point that Ben, the new father, the twenty-year-old music student, rang the doorbell. Ignoring an atmosphere that would have sent more sensitive souls running for a biohazard suit, he marched into the living room, knelt by the Moses basket, picked up his crying son and soothed him back to sleep.

Dan lived in a two-bedroom flat in Kennington – not one of the fashionable squares, but a pleasant-enough side street off the main road – with cream walls and grey carpet and a few Ikea prints here and there.

Isabelle barely noticed any of this. She waited while he paid the cab, shivering a little in her coat – the night had turned suddenly cold – and then he took her by the arm and led her through the hall, up the stairs and into his living room. The blinds were up, orange light flooding in from the sodium streetlamps, casting shadows of two figures against the wall – two figures that gradually merged into one.

They kissed, standing, for what seemed like hours, the warmth from Dan’s hands and lips soaking into Isabelle’s body, into her bones, right through her, like brandy.

‘I love you, Isabelle,’ he said when he came up for air. ‘I’ve always loved you.’

She did not know what to say in reply – she wasn’t yet sure if she loved him too – and so she kissed him again, and this time, when she opened her eyes to see his face, the smooth planes of his cheeks, the strong jawline, blond hair sticking out from his forehead, eyelids closed as if in a dream, she knew what her answer must be.

She stood back, took both his hands in hers, and said ‘Let’s go to bed.’