On the laptop on his desk, his new paper on symbolism was still not progressing as he had hoped. He had been longing for the end of term – the real chance to work that every university vacation provided – but three weeks in, and it was starting to feel as if he was going round in circles. So many good ideas, all refusing to be marshalled. Tension was the problem. Tension and Dylan. Lucas snatched up the phone and tried his son, as he had been doing at regular intervals since the discovery of the empty bed. The ringing tone played out, as it had done every time, to the automated option to leave a message.

‘It’s Dad. Again. I know you are at Mum’s, having solved the mystery of your absence for myself. Call me.’ Once upon a time a ringing phone was always answered, Lucas reflected darkly, dropping the mobile back on his desk and despairing at the capacity of a person he loved so deeply to be such a frequent cause of aggravation. If Dylan fell into line, life would be perfect. Well, nearly. Lucas tugged open the top left drawer of his desk, just far enough to enjoy the buzz of seeing the small, black, leather box nestling behind a pile of envelopes. No rush, he told himself, but soon.

Heidi was part of the distraction. Wanting her was exhausting. Lucas slammed the drawer shut and crossed to the window, allowing his lover’s manifold physical assets to come to mind, as they always wanted to: long, shining, mahogany hair, piercing, hazel eyes, small, even teeth inside a soft, full-lipped mouth, all set on top of a statuesque, toned body worthy of an athlete. Lucas adored how Heidi looked, but sometimes when they were out together, he had even caught himself half wishing he could turn the vividness of her assets down a notch or two, like a dimmer switch. It was flattering that people looked at her – at them. Yet, the sense of scrutiny, the lurking fear of being regarded as some sort of cliché, could still be unsettling and unpleasant. On the last day of the summer term, when Heidi had joined him for a post-lunch coffee in the senior common room, an upstart Physics lecturer had joked afterwards – with Heidi barely out of the room – ‘Well, you’re punching there, Professor – congrats.’ Punching? By the time Lucas had figured out what the bloody man meant, he had slapped his shoulder and moved on, chuckling.

Lucas hadn’t mentioned the incident to Heidi. It was too demeaning to both of them. He certainly had no wish to remind her of the nineteen years separating their birth dates, but only because of its genuine irrelevance. Never in his life had he felt fitter, more alive. While Heidi had laughingly admitted very early on that it was men way beyond her own age bracket to whom she was always most attracted.