After a morning in the sun, the inside of her little Ford was a furnace. Esther dumped all that she was carrying onto the passenger seat, wound down the windows and had just turned the engine on when Sue’s face popped up beside her.

‘Meant to say. We’re having a bit of a do tonight. Barbecuing. Nothing fancy. Do come.’

‘Thanks, Sue, though I doubt I’ll be back in time.’ Esther rammed the car into gear.

‘And Dylan too, if he’s around.’ Sue peered into the back of the car, as if Dylan might be lurking there.

‘Right. Bye, Sue.’ Esther lurched out of her space, stopping only just in time as a motorcycle whined past. It cut in front of her, swinging up to the front door of her other neighbour. The rider gave Esther a hard stare as he pulled off his helmet, shaking out a mane of dark, corkscrew curls.

Esther ignored it, using the moment to check a route on her phone and finding that she would still make it in time. She messaged Lily to field her parents, who would be absurdly early because they always were, and then set off more gingerly, Dimitri’s merry ‘better to be late’ ringing in her head. It was going to be a good day. Lily’s day. Lucas had all the tickets, and would no doubt stroll up to the Senate House in his casual way with five minutes to go, because that was what he always did. And tomorrow she would be packing for France, because Viv had insisted, and resisting Viv was always useless. Go with the flow, woman, Esther warned herself, putting on the radio and settling back into her seat.

8

Lucas gave the bedroom door one sharp rap before going in, deliberately not allowing time for an answer. The state of the place said it all, he reflected grimly, surveying the clothes in drifts between half-flattened boxes from various deliveries, coat hangers, grubby trainers and several charger wires zigzagging through the chaos. The wall of bookshelves, still gleaming from the costly refurb he’d had done before moving in, now contained all manner of things apart from books.

‘Dylan, move it, for goodness’ sake.’ Lucas hadn’t meant to begin this day, of all days, combatively but, really, it was impossible. He strode round the end of the bed to open a window. The room smelt, a horrible mix of sweat and something that was sweet and off at the same time. The window gave way in a rush, delivering a lovely gulp of fresh air and the clear view of a fat, half-smoked spliff on the outside sill.