Absent-mindedly she presses a hand across her cleavage, even though she’s wearing one of Tom’s T-shirts and no cleavage is on display. ‘I’m not feeding her … myself … any more,’ she says, tentatively, feeling shame sting her anew. ‘I breastfed Gaia until she was one, but it’s been … difficult … this time round. Something called oversupply. It’s when you get too much milk and your boobs swell up like footballs … Oh, Lord.’ She buries her face in her hands and they both laugh. ‘Too much information,’ she says. He fills her another glass.

‘Here, this’ll help.’ He fills his own, raises it in a toast. ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’

‘How’s Basecamp coming on?’ she says after a moment’s silence.

‘Basecamp,’ he says, wistfully. ‘Basecamp, Basecamp.’

She notes a sense of something – ennui? – that has filled the room. ‘Sorry. I’m sure you dream about building, now.’

He grins. She always did like his smile. It’s the kind that reaches his eyes. She’s always loved people with expressive eyes. ‘Well, we’re at a tricky part just now, so it’s kind of a touchy subject …’

‘Hasn’t every part of the build been tricky?’

He laughs. ‘Indeed. Well, when you’ve got Tom at the helm, it’s never going to be straightforward, is it? I mean, rooms with trees inside them? Having to change the plans again and again to avoid damaging the bloody trees?’ Another laugh, tinged with fatigue. ‘Well. I suppose we all now have a very healthy respect for trees, I’ll give him that.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she says.

He frowns, shakes his head. ‘Oh no, don’t apologize. It’s your house, isn’t it? Got to make it right …’

‘Yes, but you and Derry are … well, the longer it takes, the longer you both have to …’

He lifts the glass and pours her another shot, spilling some on the table.

‘Whoops,’ she says, and realizes she’s already drunk. He flicks his eyes at her, then pours his own glass. He lifts it to his chest, then leans back in his seat thoughtfully.

‘I won’t deny it, it’s been difficult,’ he says. ‘Derry wants us to go back to London, but I need to be here.’

She frowns. ‘Why? Can’t Tom take care of things now?’

‘It’s better that I’m here. Derry understands. But obviously, she’s pregnant now. So that changes things.’

Her face drops. She raises a hand to her mouth and laughs too loudly. He shushes her with a finger to his lips. She laughs again and claps her hands together.

‘Wow. Wow, Clive. I’m … that’s amazing. Amazing. Is Derry … Is she OK? I mean, what about morning sickness?’

He nods, smiling, and she is pleased for him. Clive, a father.

‘We’ll be looking to you and Tom for parenting tips,’ he says. ‘I haven’t a clue what to do with a baby.’