He held my face in his hands and kissed me. His mouth tasted of wine and garlic. Despite the awkwardness, it was swooningly lovely to be desired.

To be alive.

‘I’ve been wanting to do this all evening,’ he murmured into my hair. He pushed the dress off my shoulder, turned me over and expertly unclipped my bra with one hand.

‘I haven’t done this for a while,’ I whispered.

‘Me neither.’

He extracted my bra with the expertise of a surgeon pulling out a varicose vein and flung it on the floor. I wriggled my dress down till I was naked to the waist. He turned me over to face him, and gasped.

I have large breasts. There has been a certain slippage over the years, but as I lay on my back I saw his eyes widen with wonderment. His breath quickened. He cupped each breast in his hand, as if he were a boy and he’d never felt such a thing before. He stroked my skin with his finger. Then he bent down and closed his mouth over a nipple. I felt a jolt of electricity. I felt worshipped.

To my horror Evan suddenly burst into tears. He pulled away and buried his face in the pillow, one hand still cradling my breast. He said something but his voice was muffled.

‘What is it?’ I whispered.

‘I’m sorry.’ He rolled over onto his back. ‘I’m so sorry.’

For a moment he didn’t speak. I heard the murmur of traffic down in the main road.

He said: ‘She had a mastectomy, you see. A double mastectomy …’

He stopped, unable to continue, and took great, hoarse gulps of air. I didn’t know what to do. He sat hunched on the edge of the bed, his back to me. I put my arms around him. He was rigid with grief.

‘I can’t do this, I’m afraid,’ he said.

‘No.’

‘I thought I could, but …’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m just so sorry.’

He raised his head. ‘She was the love of my life.’

We sat there for a while. I noticed a folded-up wheelchair, shrouded with a blanket, parked under the window. Out in the darkness a fox barked.

I said: ‘Would you like me to stay the night? We could just hold each other?’

‘I don’t think so.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought I could do this. In fact I was looking forward to it. I even put on my own underwear.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve been wearing hers, you see. Her panties. I can tell you this because I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again, will we?’ He spoke to the cupboard door. ‘I just wanted to feel close to her. You probably think I’m deranged.’ He shrugged. ‘I probably am.’

I stroked his back but he didn’t turn round. ‘I’ll go, then,’ I said.

He didn’t move. ‘I wish it had been me,’ he said.

The next morning I got a text.

Please keep it between ourselves. You’re the only person who might understand. I wish you well for the future and hope you find happiness again, you deserve it. L-mower in your front porch. E x