My face grows warm where his eyes are fixed and there is a prickling at my hairline. I lower myself back into the seat, the coat slipping out of my hand across my lap. I dig my fingertips in at my hairline and massage my scalp for a second. If I’d gone straight home from the office, the first thing I would have done is pour myself a glass of wine anyway. And something else he said sticks: he’s technically no longer a client.

‘Alright. One drink,’ I say.

I look up and realise we are close. I can feel his breath, soft on my ear. I shuffle back a little.

He smiles, and glances down. I follow his eyes to my wedding ring and realise I’m turning it on my finger. A nervous tick I’ve had for years. If it wasn’t my wedding ring it was my engagement ring before that, but Cormac might read it as something else. I glance about the dark place, guiltily searching for any recognisable faces.

‘You could have chosen somewhere quieter,’ I say.

The waiter comes back, bends and speaks, ‘Any questions about the wine list?’

‘No. I’ll take a glass of the Backward Point Pinot Noir,’ I say.

‘I’ll have the same,’ Cormac says.

‘Good choice,’ the waiter says, before collecting the menus and receding back to the bar.

‘So,’ I say. ‘How did you find out the university won’t continue paying for your treatment?’

‘Adam Limbargo told me that he wishes me all the best but he can no longer continue to pay.’

In his correspondence with me, Adam had been supportive of Cormac, so why the change of heart? I sense there is something else at play here; Adam had a gambling addiction, and although it wasn’t stated when I met him for coffee, I’m sure he’d lost a significant amount of money. Maybe he’s in financial trouble and can’t afford to cover Cormac’s sessions? The waiter brings over our two glasses of wine. Cormac holds his glass out to me and I touch it with my own, then draw in a mouthful.

‘I’m curious about this relationship, Cormac.’

‘How so?’

‘Were you doing anything for him? Helping him mark papers or something?’

‘No, nothing like that. I don’t know why he wanted to look after me. He took a shine to me, I guess.’

I remember Adam’s earnest voice when he spoke about his wife. She’s at the end of her tether. He was stressed, and in retrospect it always seemed odd that he would fork out money for someone else’s therapy when he evidently wasn’t prepared to pay for his own.