‘I don’t know. That’s what you look like, all dressed up in those clothes. You look good. Don’t be offended.’

‘I’m not. Just a bit bemused. You see, it’s what I’m going to call this book I may be writing.’ She lifted the glass to her lips and the bubbles rose and rose into her mouth. She tilted her head back and the liquid bubbled down her throat. The glass was empty. She held it out towards him.

He frowned.

‘That bottle cost twenty-five quid.’

‘Worth every penny.’

‘We should savour it.’

‘I am, believe me. I’d like to savour some more.’

He went back into the kitchen to get the bottle.

‘A great way to get rid of money,’ she called after him. ‘You never answered my question.’

‘What was that?’ He came back and poured more bubbles into her waiting glass.

‘Just about where we’re having dinner.’

For a moment he said nothing. Then he put the bottle down on the table.

‘It’s a place Caitlin always wanted to go. She’d heard about it, met the odd person who’d been there. She always had a fancy for me to take her there. I thought …’

‘Look – this isn’t a very good idea.’

‘I thought,’ he raised his voice slightly, ‘that she would like me to take you there. You’ve been so kind. I know she would like me to do that.’

‘Where is this place? What is it called?’

‘It’s in that hotel owned by U2.’

‘The Clarence? You’re mad, man. It costs an arm and a leg. This is …’

‘I’ve booked us a table.’

She was about to say ‘ridiculous’, but changed her mind. ‘… terribly kind. Terribly, extravagantly kind.’

‘She would …’ He stopped. He sipped at his wine. ‘It’s my pleasure,’ he said.

She smiled at him.

Her smile made him think of bodies touching and the smell he had got from her pillow of tangled hair and warmth.

I’m going to tell her the truth tonight, he thought. To hell with her mother. I’m going to sit in that restaurant and with Caitlin at my shoulder, I will tell her everything. About love and hate and despair and the blackness that has covered my life for two years, and maybe she will touch me and where her fingers lie the blackness will peel away like a tired skin. Yes, I will do that.

He wanted to go now, this minute, but she was still standing there, glass in hand, still smiling towards him and there was no taxi and he didn’t know how to fill in this waiting time until he had her across the table imprisoned in the restaurant, so he just smiled back at her and said, ‘Yes, my pleasure.’

The doorbell rang and Pansy barked, one sharp loud bark.

‘The taxi?’ suggested Clara, dipping her head down again towards her glass. Lar nodded and left the room. Pansy padded after him towards the hall door.