‘I have a daughter. You just did what I’ve always told her she should do. So I guess I should just sit over here and shut up.’

‘You don’t need to shut up. Again, I’m sorry. I’m not having the best day.’

‘So maybe you do have something you need to talk about?’ He pushes a chair out with his foot. And gestures to the barman to get me another drink. I don’t turn it down. ‘Or we can sit here for a few hours, play backgammon and pretend our real lives aren’t happening?’

‘That sounds like a really nice idea.’

I guess I’ll have to pump and dump.

Coming out of a pub drunk when it’s still light is like walking down a tunnel towards a fleet of trucks, all with their headlights shining right into your face. I’d maybe fall to the ground if the man wasn’t holding me up. I never caught his name. It’s not like you can ask again after an hour of sitting with someone in a pub, is it?

He remembers mine.

‘Beth, I’ll hail you a cab,’ he says. I shout the word ‘Booooooring’ like a thirteen-year-old girl who has just been told to button her top up to cover her cleavage.

‘No?’ he asks me. ‘Then what do you want to do?’

I manage to straighten my legs and hold them still enough to put my face opposite his. My head is like a balloon tied to a stick, it keeps flopping down towards the ground. I haven’t been drunk in over a year. I just chugged four gin and tonics in one hour. That’s a lot for me right now.

‘I want to kiss you,’ I say. ‘I want to kiss you on your mouth.’ I manage to keep my head steady enough to make my first attempt. He pulls away, looks up the street and seems a bit cross.

‘What are you doing?’ he says, like I just tried to hit him.

‘Sorry, I thought we …’ My shame taps me on the shoulder. Another man who thinks I’m a giant sexual oaf.

‘It’s OK. But what about this?’

He holds up my left hand, he’s referring to my wedding ring.

‘Oh that,’ I say, looking at my ring like it’s a scumbag ex-boyfriend. ‘This is what I think to that.’ I take it off and throw it into my bag. ‘Does that bother you, because it doesn’t bother me?’

‘No. I understand that feeling,’ he says.

‘Take me to your house,’ I demand.

He looks both ways and puts his arm under mine to help me. We’re at his front door within a few minutes.