I couldn’t really speak at that point. Silently, I opened my book of Disappointing Husband anecdotes. Page 45: Gabe once emptied out my nutmeg jar, throwing its legitimate contents in the kitchen bin so that he could use it to store his skunkweed. He needed an airtight container so I wouldn’t smell it. Skunk has a horribly strong stench and I’m unfashionably zero-tolerance about any kind of drugs.

The next day, when I needed the nutmeg to put in a sauce, I couldn’t find it. I asked Gabe to help me search the kitchen, swearing I’d bought a new jar only the other day. Gabe hunted with me quite happily, emptying out the pantry and the dresser drawers – all the time knowing the jar was in the glove compartment of his car, which I opened a week or so later when we were driving to his mother’s, to see if he had any extra-strong mints. The nutmeg jar full of weed fell into my hands.

Gabe was sorry, sorry, sorry – for taking drugs, for lying again. His sorry phase lasted for the first ten or so years of our marriage. It was followed by the rational-defiant era. Now that Gabe and I are no longer together, I sometimes ask myself which was better. Did I prefer constantly playing hide and seek with pieces of silver foil dotted with tiny burned holes, searching my home for proof of the weed habit he denied, or was it better, all things considered, to have to listen to rapturous descriptions of £320 vaporisers that were so much better for you than bongs and that would enable Gabe to get wasted while protecting his lungs?

‘I’m not going to discuss my husband, tonight or ever,’ I said as Liam’s fingers continued with their due diligence. ‘I’d … aah … feel too disloyal. My husband is fine.’

I loved Gabe. I probably still do. He’s the funniest, cleverest, most interesting man I’ve ever known. He always had some new fad on the go that he raved about until I was so sick of it, I could scream – yoyos, fencing, a particular brand of Greek olive oil, old issues of Punch magazine …

I wanted to be as loyal to him as I could, which meant not discussing him with Liam. I’d had a little bit of a vent and I wanted to leave it there. And for all of you who are thinking there’s no point fretting about loyalty to your husband while a stranger’s got his fingers inside you, I would respectfully say this: what crap.