He had to call Lindsey. Her train was leaving Warrington at ten o’clock, so he wanted to let her know before she left.

It was going to be a hard conversation, but it was only fair. He knew now that he didn’t want to be with Lindsey. He hadn’t for a while, but he had not known how to tell her.

But now Annabelle was on the scene he had no choice.

Plus, it was unfair to her to keep stringing her along. Regardless of Annabelle, the right thing to do was to tell her it was over.

But he was not looking forward to the phone call.

He got out of bed. He was still wearing the jeans and T-shirt from the night before. There was a sink in his room and he cupped his hands underneath the tap and splashed water on his face, then lowered his mouth to the stream and drank as much as he could stand.

Barefoot, he walked down the corridor to the phones. He took a fifty-pence piece from his pocket and fed it into the slot. That should be plenty.

He dialled Lindsey’s number. It was her mum who answered.

‘Hi, Sue,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘It’s me. Is Linz there?’

‘She’s having her breakfast. Are you well? You sound like you’ve got a bit of a cold. She’s very excited about coming to see you.’

His resolve wavered. She was not going to take this well. Maybe it would be easier to see her one more time. Get through the weekend and then let their relationship fizzle out.

He thought of Annabelle. Of the soft, warm kiss. Of how she had said she didn’t want to be in the middle of this. He had to make sure there was no ‘this’ to be in the middle of.

So he had to do it. It was the right thing.

‘I had a late night last night,’ he said. ‘No cold.’

‘Right. I’ll put her on.’

She called Lindsey. There was a pause, and then his girlfriend was on the line.

‘Hi,’ she said. Her voice was guarded and suspicious. ‘I wasn’t expecting a call.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Good. You sound awful. Are you ill? Is that why you’re calling?’

‘No. I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Couldn’t it wait until I get there?’

‘I don’t think so.’

He listened to her breathe. ‘Go on,’ she said.

‘I – I’ve been thinking. And—’

‘Are you breaking up with me?’

‘No!’ It was an instinctive answer. ‘I mean, maybe.’

‘Maybe, or yes?’

‘Look, Annabelle, I—’

‘What did you call me?’

He realized what he had done, and looked at the phone as though it was somehow to blame. ‘Nothing.’