Amber’s faith in me gave me a pepped-up courage that carried me through the rest of the day. From where I am now, it’s hard to understand how I failed to witness the pattern – the fact that the highs and lows that used to arrive chemically, via a furtive late-night drop-off on a scooter, were now arriving with equal ferocity via different means. I even managed to turn the feeble text I received from Arthur into a positive. Ha! he wrote – nothing else – in the late afternoon. Then a few minutes later, another bubble appeared on my phone’s screen. Stay strong! Catch up with you when I’m back x. It was hardly a sonnet, but somehow I managed to transform receiving a kiss into a romantic triumph. I hadn’t sent him one – he was clearly upping the ante, making it clear he wanted our relationship to be ongoing, and definitely more than friends. I shut off my computer at seven, well after Julia had left and twenty minutes after Duncan, and headed to the lift with a stubborn optimism. It was a fresh start in every possible way.

The end of the day bustle was long over as I swiped my pass on the turnstile. The row of leather chairs in the lobby were left exposed, so I saw her immediately.

‘Sophie!’ I said, rushing towards her, my voice cracking. She took a few seconds to stand up, the easy smile that normally lit up her face at the sight of me failing to ignite. At least she was here. That meant everything. ‘I’m wearing your scarf,’ I said, hugging her unyielding body. ‘I love it so much.’

‘I liked the cookbook too,’ she said, words muffled by the long hug that I was refusing to quit.

‘I’m so happy you’re here!’ I added. My voice had developed that watery uplift that Hannah’s so often had, neediness turned into a lilting chime.

‘I needed to see you,’ said Sophie, almost businesslike. She paused. ‘Do you want some supper? My treat.’

It was so humiliating how much of a bonus it was that she would pay.

‘I’d love that,’ I said, awkwardly threading my arm through the crook of her stiff elbow.

We ended up in a dim sum place, all low lighting and intimate velvet booths. Had she lined it up beforehand, picking somewhere where there would be no easy distractions? I let her order for both of us, a cover for my self-consciousness about the fact she was paying. All I asked for was a bottle of sparkling water.

‘You can get a drink,’ I said to Sophie, but she shook her head, her face shut tight. ‘Just because I’m not drinking, doesn’t mean you… or are you practising for dry January?’