He shook his head, a small movement. ‘Do you not?’

I shook mine. Nice one, Polly, way to kill it stone dead.

He hovered above me, a dark shadow. ‘I’ll come out.’

I looked at him for what was probably too long. Fuck it. I nodded.

It was nice. It was definitely nice. Pretty quick I guess, but in a dirty, urgent sort of way. I felt all candle-waxy and I liked the way his beard scratched against my cheek.

Jim lay next to me, breathing loudly through his nose. My pants were still around one knee. His heart sounded like a horse galloping away.

He put a palm on my inner thigh, high up.

‘It’s OK,’ I said. My hangover was seeping back along my forehead.

He gave me a gentle frown. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’

He gazed at me for a bit longer, then reached down under the covers, brought one of his socks up and wiped my belly with it.

‘Um,’ I said.

‘What?’ He looked at me with a lazy grin, bunching the sock up and slinging it off the side of the bed. ‘I’m not getting up.’ And he pulled me to him again.

I brought my bra and T-shirt down and settled in. He was a proper hot water bottle.

Jim suddenly put his hand between my legs. ‘What’s this, anyway?’

I angled my head awkwardly. ‘What?’

‘This.’ He pressed down more firmly.

‘What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?’

‘Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just – where’s your hair?’

Jesus. I shifted up the bed to make a gap between me and his hand. ‘Isn’t that – it’s what girls do now.’

A pause. ‘All girls?’

Where had he been living for the last ten years? ‘I don’t know.’ I stared up at the ceiling. ‘Men like it.’

‘Do they?’

‘Yes.’

‘Must be old-fashioned, then.’

‘Old, maybe.’

He laughed through his nose at me. ‘You’re like a girl I used to know.’

That was new. The girl who’d left him, the one he’d wanted to marry? ‘Yeah?’ I said, quite vaguely, trying not to sound too interested. ‘In what way?’

He blinked slowly and sniffed. ‘Long hair. Sparky. Bit rude.’

I opened my eyes wide in not entirely unfeigned indignation. ‘Thanks.’ I looked at him. ‘Am I?’

‘A bit.’ He gave a slow smile. ‘S’all right, I can take it.’ He put his forearm under my nose. ‘Thick skin, remember?’

I liked how we didn’t have to talk. I had a leg hooked over one of his and my ear was pressed flat on his shoulder. When he scratched his chest it sounded like a saw tearing at wood. I wondered if Lottie was up yet and whether she’d seen that I wasn’t home.

The urge to pee couldn’t wait any longer. I dragged my pants up and clambered over him, and he gave a sort of sleepy groan. I put his puffer jacket on, slid my feet into his boots and went outside.