‘Where do you want to go?’

‘I don’t know . . .’

‘Pick somewhere.’

‘We could go and visit Francis.’

I could tell by the way she asked that she was terrified of rejection. She tried to make it sound off-hand, but I saw her throat flex with anxiety when she swallowed. She looked into my eyes, pleading with me. I had no wish to leave the flat. It was cold and wet outside, and I was cocooned with half a bottle, my old friend and my memories. I had no wish to visit Francis. I did not want to confront him on a cold wet night. In our conversation he was vivid, a smiling, beautiful ghost conjured by the love of old friends. I did not want to put his image back into the drawer, wrapped up in paper and mothballs, and go and see the real him. But I could not abandon Jessica. I felt my selfishness thaw suddenly, leaving me green and unprotected.

‘We might have trouble getting a cab. And we’ll have to break in. But let’s go, if it’s what you want.’

‘I want it to be what you want.’

‘Fine. It is.’

Fine. It had been one of the words that in the days of our friendship had formed the backbone of our private vocabulary, and it did not have quite the same texture for anyone else that it did for us. It had meant something slightly different from the vague indifference or mild annoyance it conveyed when normally spoken. It was more strongly supportive, it meant: ‘I’m with you, all the way,’ or: ‘That is how I feel.’ I surprised myself when I used it, I was surprised to be reminded that language could act like this, could help to make little tribes of three or four where much time was spent together. As a lawyer, I used language to lock out ambiguity, to delineate exactly the respective obligations of two parties. Words were not private in my professional world, they were public property, with universal meanings that allowed people who had never met to reach agreement. Publicly, words could provide solid foundations. Privately, they became nuanced, and were prone to slip . . . It felt good to use them privately, but it made me feel uneasy too.