‘Yes,’ I say. We watch as the woman gently wipes crumbs from the man’s mouth with a napkin. She affectionately pats him on the chin with it, too, and his hand grabs hold of hers and holds it tight, for a few seconds, as they look into each other’s eyes and smile the smile of the known and loved.

‘How lovely to grow old with someone,’ he says.

‘Is it? I’m not sure I want someone to see me get old,’ I say, with all due nonchalance, but I am not telling the truth as I think I would love this, this tender slipping into the night, whilst holding someone’s hand – this love and companionship, to the very end.

‘I would,’ says Kemp, looking thoughtful. ‘I think it would be wonderful. To have someone who sees everything. To have someone to call “home”.’

‘Better find someone, then,’ I say. ‘Before it’s too late.’

‘Charming!’

‘Better just grab anyone you can.’

Kemp looks at me. ‘Thanks very much,’ he says slowly. ‘I might just have to do that. Settle with just anyone so I won’t be a lonely old fool.’

‘Wherever you lay your hat …’ I shrug.

I know he won’t do this. I know he would only grow old with someone he deserves. Someone he would place very carefully in his heart, and keep safe. Lucky cow. ‘Good plan.’

He raises his left eyebrow slightly at me. ‘You know that woman, in the house, she was my ex-girlfriend.’

‘Oh?’ The napkin suddenly becomes completely fascinating.

‘Yes. Carina. We went out for almost a year.’

The feigned nonchalance is still holding up. ‘Why did you break up?’

‘Well, she was lovely, but, ultimately, she was too linear for me.’

‘Linear? I don’t get it.’

‘No mystery, nothing to unravel. Straightforward, open. Too nice. Too easy to get along with. Not for me.’

‘Oh, right. You want someone you don’t get along with? That’s a bit weird.’

‘No, not exactly that. I want someone who doesn’t always agree with me. I want banter. I want someone who I feel there’s constantly more to discover about. I want an onion.’

‘You want an onion.’

‘Yes.’

I have no idea what he’s talking about.

‘I miss you,’ he says.

‘What?’

‘I said I miss you. I missed you. All this time.’ I am looking up from the napkin. Into his face. His eyes. I have no idea what they’re saying to me. ‘We had such a great time, you and me.’

I screw the napkin into a ball with my fist. Hold on to it tight. ‘Why do you miss me? Have you still not got any friends?’

This is cruel and I immediately regret it. I think of David Somebody, the school friend who moved away. Kemp, the loner in the darkroom. The boy who always had a plan.