‘Oh, okay,’ he said with a smile that showed me he had no idea how this would impact our lives. ‘Well, that’s great.’

I smiled weakly at him.

‘So,’ he said, peering at me, ‘how do you feel about it? You’ve never really talked about any of your uni friends. Are you… pleased? Not pleased?’ He moved his shoulders one way and then the other, hands open as if weighing something up.

I opened my mouth wide but nothing came out so I closed it slowly again.

‘Pleased,’ I said carefully.

Rohan looked at me sideways. ‘You don’t look so pleased?’

I exhaled. ‘It’s just…’ I stared at him for what felt like the longest time: could I tell him I was looking forward to having Grace around but was also nervous? That I was wary of the effect she would have, not just on me, but on our marriage? That I was scared of how I might change once Grace came back?

‘I’ve invited her to stay for a bit until she finds her feet,’ I said carefully. ‘The spare room’s just sitting empty, and you’ll be away most of the time.’

Rohan had been out when the new bedding had arrived. I’d bought a small chair, too, with a pine frame, that rocked – nothing fancy. It wasn’t The Ritz, but I knew Grace would like it.

‘Does she have family here?’ Rohan asked.

I shook my head. ‘Her parents died. It was quite sad, actually. One got sick – her dad, I think? And the other died within weeks.’

‘Very sad,’ Rohan agreed. ‘But yeah – it would be good for you to have a friend around.’

‘Mmm,’ I said, and we lapsed into silence for a few moments.

‘I’ve never met her, have I?’ Rohan asked. ‘What do I need to know about her? Or should I ask her for all the dirt on what you got up to?’ He gave me a leery smile, though I knew he thought that the worst I could possibly have done would have been to miss a lecture.

We had to break off then because Mr Ho appeared at the side of the table, order pad poised.

‘How are you today, Mr Ho?’ Rohan asked. ‘How’s the family?’ Although he was the owner of the restaurant, the patriarch, he wore, like all the other staff, white shirtsleeves, a black waistcoat and black trousers. He’d told us once that his father used to run the restaurant, and that he hoped to pass it on to his own children, though they hadn’t shown much interest to date – one was doing Media Studies at university and the other was a jobbing musician. It was a source of great sadness to him to think he might have to sell the restaurant when he could no longer work.