‘Fuck,’ I whispered, stunned, wishing desperately I could start the conversation again, steer it somewhere else, anywhere else. Off a cliff, into an iceberg. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Last year,’ he went on, like he hadn’t heard me. ‘Heart attack. No warning. No signs. No risk factors. He was sixty-six, had been swimming his whole life. Did triathlons sometimes, when he had the time to train.’

He touched his beer, but didn’t pick it up.

‘It was so weird. One day he was alive and the next he wasn’t and there were all these flowers everywhere.’ He shook his head.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. ‘I didn’t mean to …’

‘It’s okay. I don’t talk about it much. Maybe I should.’

I sat back next to him, both of us staring straight ahead. There was an old, bent mushroom heater in the middle of the courtyard and it made me feel cold. I took a drag of my cigarette, then put it down in the ashtray.

‘It’s just weird.’ He shrugged, his shoulder brushing mine. ‘Do you ever think about it? Death?’

I tilted my head like I didn’t know what he was asking.

‘Because I didn’t. I mean, I’m around dying people all the time. Most days, in fact.’

I felt my cheeks get hot.

‘But not anyone I know.’ He lifted his hand, tugged at the back of his neck and looked up at the sky. ‘Well, my piano teacher died a few years back; I read about it in the paper. And a guy a few years above me at school—but not anyone … I guess I’ve been lucky.’

‘I guess,’ I said. ‘Were you close?’

‘Yes and no,’ he sighed. ‘The yes part makes it hard; the no part makes it harder. Regrets, you know?’

I nodded, not sure I did. He was quiet for a minute, thinking.

‘Anyway—’ he shrugged again ‘—it spun me out. Made me think about things. Soph and I—we’d been together forever. Mum had us married off. Soph had us married off. House in the suburbs, three kids, some big ugly stupid dog.’

I smiled.

‘It made me take stock.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘As they say. Soph thought it was grief, and that I’d get over it. She kept trying to fix things, and I probably didn’t handle it well. It was … messy. I’m pretty sure she hates me now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, wishing I could say something else but not knowing what.

I picked up my cigarette. It had gone out so I relit it.

‘I’m getting over it,’ he said, as I took a drag. ‘As much as you do, I guess.’

I nodded, trying not to think all the things I was thinking.

‘So,’ he said, when I didn’t say anything. He picked up his beer and finished it. Reset. ‘That killed the mood.’