Sometimes it’s better to say nothing, he said. It’ll pass.

She had assumed he had guessed, and had given her the message he wasn’t interested as kindly as he could.

After all, he was going out with Heather Stanford, who was five foot ten tall and looked like a model.

So she had moved on, and the crush had dissipated, and they had become friends. She liked having him as a friend – he was smart and handsome and charismatic and had something mysterious about him.

And now it turned out he’d been in love with her all along.

She could barely believe it. How had she missed it?

How had he hidden it? How had he managed to conceal something so powerful it had led him to this?

No – she was missing something. When he came back she would talk to him, calmly and rationally. She would ask him to explain and she would tell him the truth and he would see the mistake he was making.

And he would let her go.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her legs suddenly too weak to support her. He had to let her go. She couldn’t allow herself to think otherwise.

Because the alternative was too awful to contemplate.

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She is where she has always belonged. Obviously she is a little bit fragile, for the moment. She’s been through an emotional time, even if it is what she has been wanting.

She is also upset at how I did it. I can understand that. Perhaps I should have revealed myself immediately, then she would not have been hurt. I think this has turned her against me, for now at least. But she will come around. What’s that trite saying people like so much? Love conquers all? Perhaps it is true.

And then we can get on with our lives.

It will be hard, of course. She will have to stay hidden, isolated in the lake house for quite some time. We can hardly go swanning around London together!

But, eventually, I will tell my friends I’ve met someone. I’ll describe dates at the theatre and meals at smart restaurants. I’ll show them photos of us together.

And one day they’ll meet her. I know her name already – Angelica.

Angelica. Meaning: angel, or angelic.

She has always been my angel. And I have always been hers.

I’ve wanted to tell her for years, but the time was never right. When we first met I lacked the confidence – ironic, given how everyone saw me, but that was all a front – and couldn’t face the fear that she would reject me.

Because I loved her from the moment I saw her. I don’t know why; I knew that she was the piece that would complete me, and that I had to wait for the right moment to make her mine.