Jared nodded. ‘Nightmare. She was all over me like a rash at first. Then I did something she didn’t approve of – God knows what, I never found out – and she turned on me, made my life hell for about six months.’

Connie had a glassy smile nailed to her face. Neil was speaking again, but she had no idea what he was saying. Sounds of the party faded. The only thing in her field of vision, in her entire consciousness, was the man in front of her. As if they were all alone on the freezing terrace.

Then Devan, his other conversation over, wheeled round. Connie almost gasped. But, astonishingly, her husband was grinning, holding out his hand to shake Jared’s warmly.

‘Hey, great to see you again.’ He turned to her. ‘This is the guy I told you about, Connie. Remember? Me and Bill met him in the pub.’ He turned back to Jared again. ‘So, have you moved in yet?’

‘Been there a few weeks now.’

‘How’s it going? Not too quiet for you?’

‘It’s perfect,’ Jared said, glancing at Connie. ‘I’ve had things to sort out back at my other place but I’ve pretty much done that now. Just a few more boxes to go.’

‘Listen, got to circulate,’ Neil said, putting one arm round Jared, the other round Connie. ‘But let’s all get together and have a bitch-fest about La Raven, eh? We could do Angie’s for a coffee … I’m around till the end of November now.’ He grinned at Devan. ‘You can come too, of course. But you might be shocked.’

‘Shocked’ was how Connie was feeling right now. Her head was spinning as she imagined the impossible scenario of her, Neil, Jared, and maybe Devan too, sitting cosily round one of the wobbly metal tables at Angie’s, sipping Gajah Mountain blend and reminiscing about Fiona. How come Jared worked for her? It seemed an extraordinary coincidence.

The others were laughing as their host made off towards Brooks and had an earnest conversation in his husband’s ear. Connie watched her friend. Anything but look at Jared, who was now asking Devan if he was interested in craft beer.

‘I’ve got a brewer mate who’s experimenting with a stout blend. I’m going over there tomorrow, if you fancy coming along for a tasting.’

Devan, who loathed stout, was nodding eagerly. ‘That’d be great.’

Connie stared at her husband in horror.

‘It’s serious stuff. Tastes like singed soil, really gross,’ Jared was saying. ‘You can’t drink much and stay upright.’