He had to declare himself to her. Not now, not when Meredith was in the middle of this crisis, but soon. It was time, surely. Andrea was so beautiful, and if he left it any longer someone else would be braver than him. He’d always been too afraid of the rebuttal, or of it ruining their friendship – but he’d caught her glancing at him, her pupils flaring when he spoke, the way her smile stretched right up to the corners of her eyes when she listened to him. She was touching his arm now, just brushing her fingers against his skin; and she was sober, so it couldn’t be the wine talking. He would. He’d invite her over again, soon, dinner for two this time. He imagined how soft her lips would feel, how gently they would have to make love with the baby between them…

As if she read his mind, she turned and looked at him again, uncurling her legs and sliding her bare feet into her trainers, crushing the backs down rather than putting them on properly. She grasped his arm to help steady herself as she stood up in the ungainly way that pregnant women did – although in her case, she still managed to look graceful – and Pete stood too, to help her.

‘Well, my sides are aching and my belly is full of pie and baby,’ she said. ‘But I must go to bed now, to dream of self-wounding pelicans. Thank you for a wonderful evening. Next time you must come to me.’ She was looking Pete straight in the eye, and he caught Meredith’s triumphant smirk as she gave Andrea a quick hug goodbye, then excused herself to go to the loo, leaving the two of them alone.

‘I’d love to,’ he said, and before he let himself think too closely about it, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. They felt exactly as soft as he’d thought they would.

‘Well?’ demanded Meredith when she returned, staggering slightly, as if the barge was cutting through choppy sea instead of on the millpond-flat river.

Pete changed the subject. If he confessed his intentions to her, he’d never hear the end of it. ‘Are you really going for a run in the morning?’

‘Yup,’ she said, grabbing a pack of Nurofen from the kitchen counter and popping three out. ‘If I take these now, that should nip the worst of the hangover in the bud. I brought my trainers and jogging gear … cos it’ll be more of a jog than a run for sure. I’m hoping it will clear my head, in all ways. Come with me?’

‘No bloody way,’ he said. ‘I’m having a lie-in tomorrow. You’re a better woman than I am.’