I simply cut him off. Stopped replying to his messages. Stopped answering his calls. I couldn’t explain that his ridiculous friend had fallen in love with him, so I just had to ignore him. Walk away – swiftly – without looking back. I’ll always remember his last message. It said, Bertie! I don’t know why you’ve gone, but I haven’t. I’m still here. Take some time, if you need it. I’ll be waiting. But I didn’t want him to wait. I wanted him to realize I could never see him again.

‘I’m done.’ Feline-toothed Ryan is back in the sitting room, clutching his plastic file. ‘I got loads of photos.’

‘Great, great,’ says Kemp, still casually leaning against my wall, his feet crossed at the ankles, and making no move to go. He is sipping his water and looking all lovely and genial and good-natured. His hair is perfect. His eyes are kind. I’m trying not to meet them.

‘I’m seeing Ellie at eight,’ says Ryan.

‘Yes, OK, we’re off, then,’ says Kemp, and he rights himself and hands me back the glass of water with a smiling ‘thank you’, and our fingers almost touch and I want to die.

‘You’re welcome,’ I say.

‘We’ll see ourselves out. Thanks again, Vince, Prue. Don’t be a stranger,’ Kemp adds, to me. ‘I mean it. Reply to my bloody texts.’

‘Sorry,’ I reply, a mere million millionth of what I actually want to say.

‘Thanks,’ chimes Ryan. ‘Great place.’ And off they go, shutting the door behind them, and I can hear them clattering down the metal stairs with Kemp ribbing Ryan about something and them both laughing and then they are out the brown doors and on the street below.

‘Nice kid,’ says Dad, from his chair. ‘And Kemp really is a great guy. Why did you stop seeing him, again?’

I take Kemp’s empty glass and walk into the kitchen.

‘I had to,’ I whisper to myself.

CHAPTER 22

Kemp was the only person I told my Cherry Lau story to. How we had stopped being friends after a house party one summer when we were seventeen. I’d been invited by some boys in Sixth Form – I’m not sure why. I think I’d told one of them to ‘do one’ in the lunch queue earlier that week and they decided – finally – I was some weird strain of cool novelty.