I open the wardrobe to see what I can wear. My tired body wants nothing more than to sink into a pair of cosy pyjamas but Connor doesn’t think wearing pyjamas for dinner is proper. And there is something quite fun about dressing up for each other. I pull out a black silk pleated maxi skirt. It has an elasticated waist and will be comfortable enough. I team it with the green cashmere jumper Connor got me for Christmas and slip a pair of loafers on my feet. Running my fingers through my hair to tidy it, I hurry along the passageway towards the kitchen.

‘You look nice and relaxed,’ says Connor, appearing at the open door. ‘Dinner’s ready and I’ve got the outdoor heater on.’

I step out on to the roof terrace which, weather permitting, has become our dining room. Connor prefers the space outside, because it feels less claustrophobic than sitting at the small table in the living room. And it is nice, eating under the stars – certainly more romantic than a greasy takeaway on the sofa. Still, I’m thankful for the outdoor heater, particularly on a chilly January night like this.

‘I got some cod from the fishmonger’s on Northcote Road,’ he says, sitting down at the table next to me. ‘So I thought I’d make a fish pie. Tuck in.’

I smile as I take a mouthful of the pie. It is rich and creamy and feels like a warm hug. Despite my initial desire to lounge on the sofa with junk food, this is exactly what I need.

‘It’s delicious,’ I say, taking a sip of cold white wine. ‘Where did you get the recipe?’

‘From Mum,’ he says wistfully. ‘She used to make it all the time when I was a kid. Mums make the best meals, don’t they? Oh God, sorry, that was insensitive of me.’

He squeezes my hand and smiles.

‘Don’t be silly,’ I say, feeling the warmth of his skin next to mine. ‘You know I’m fine with you mentioning your mum. I was lucky that my mum was a great cook too. She made everything from scratch. No microwave meals, no jars of pasta sauce, no takeaways. She loved cooking and she loved her family.’

‘That’s what home is all about,’ he says. ‘Warmth and love and food. Sitting round a table. I missed all that when I moved into this place.’

‘I’d like to meet your mum,’ I say. ‘We should plan a little trip.’