‘You look annoyed too. Wait, did you say something earlier about my time at your mum’s? You didn’t, did you?’

‘Didn’t what?’

‘Did you have… cameras? Spying on me?’

‘How drunk are you? Cameras?’

‘OK. You didn’t have cameras.’

‘What would I have seen in these fucking cameras?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Doesn’t sound like nothing. Cameras?’

‘Right. Sorry.’

‘About what?’

‘Oh, everything.’

The strobe above us spun petals of light across her face and body.

‘I’ll have my own flat soon. You could come and live with me.’

‘Oh, Paul. Shut up.’

‘Seriously. You could.’

‘Shut up. I mean it. You’re not serious. We’ve established that.’

‘I’m being serious.’

‘I like you because you’re not serious.’

I put my hand on her shoulder. I put my hands in her hair and she took them in hers and brought them down to where I could have held her hips if she decided to let them go.

I waited to see what she’d decide.

‌

‌Twenty-One

‘Do you think she might ever write about you? Would you read it if she did?’

‘Yes.’

‘How would you feel?’

‘Naked. Humiliated.’

‘You wouldn’t feel proud that you made an impact on her life?’

‘I think her portrayal would do enough to remove any sense of pride. She’d destroy me.’

‘Perhaps you shouldn’t read it if she does.’

‘Oh, I know I shouldn’t. I would, though, if she does, and the awful thing is I’ll be more offended if she doesn’t. It’s not every day two people crash into each other’s lives like that. I think I’ve got at least a year or two until she eviscerates me, if she’s going to. I want to put some distance between her portrait of me and whoever I’ve become by then. If I can see what she writes as a historical document that applies to a historical person? That would be the best thing, if I can do that.’

‘You sound like you might actually want her to punish you.’

‘Wouldn’t you rather be punished than forgotten?’

*

When Sophie arrived at the pub before the ceremony, she confessed to me that she would have made it out of the house in a denim skirt, vest top and Adidas trainers, all ready to make the point that this was not a significant occasion for her, except that her mother had looked at her and inclined her head slightly, and so Sophie had gone back upstairs to change into a dress and heels. Now she sought reassurance from me. ‘I don’t look like I’ve made much of an effort, do I?’