‘Right now, just a dignified end to it. Then a new start.’

‘Well, amen to that.’ She fiddled with her ring. ‘I suppose I am convincing myself a bit. What a funny thing this is. I have a husband. I have this ring on my finger. This marker.’

‘It’s easy enough to take it off.’

‘It really isn’t,’ she said. ‘I mean actually. I think it’s stuck on.’

‘You twist,’ I said.

‘Still stuck.’

‘Twist and pull. Here,’ I said, taking her hand, twisting and pulling, meeting resistance until I didn’t and the ring skidded across the pub floor to land under the table of the TV presenter and his companion.

‘For heaven’s sake,’ called Andrew, who had probably been watching our conversation for a while, they all probably had. ‘What is going on?’

‘It’s OK,’ I said, rushing to the other side of the pub with Emily. ‘I saw where it landed.’

‘Jesus Christ.’

The TV presenter and his girlfriend were peering under their table. Emily got on her hands and knees and crawled under it, and her dress rode up. I looked away, in the direction of Andrew who was striding towards me. Then I got on my hands and knees too. ‘Let me, Emily,’ I said. ‘I’m not wearing a dress.’

She straightened up and banged her head, backed out while rubbing it.

‘What does it look like?’ asked the TV presenter.

‘A wedding ring,’ said Emily.

‘How did that happen?’ said Andrew.

The ring had disappeared.

‘Congratulations,’ said the TV presenter and his girlfriend. ‘I’m sure he’ll find it.’

I had found it. I was tempted to slip it into my pocket and pawn it later.

‘Here it is,’ I said, coming out from the table on my knees.

Emily held out her hand. Instead of dropping it into her palm I slid it over the end of her finger, all the way to the base.

‘Why, Paul, were you removing Emily’s wedding ring?’ Andrew asked, after we’d moved away from the table.

‘Calm down,’ said Emily. ‘I was just saying it was stuck already, and he was explaining, demonstrating, how to take it off.’

He looked at me, his forehead as knotty as old tree bark. I was pleased I’d annoyed him. I put my hand in my jacket to make sure I still had my cards. My reflex was to apologise but I bit down hard on it and said I was going for a cigarette.

*

While I was smoking, Sophie came out and we had a conversation I don’t like to think about. No, I said, I did not throw Emily’s ring across the pub on purpose, as a comment on the marriage, and it was not even a Freudian slip of the hand.

Whatever you might think.