I bat him away good-naturedly, turning back to the cooking. ‘You’re distracting me.’

‘Okay, okay. I’m going to take my coat off. I’ll leave you in peace.’ He retreats with his coat folded over his arms.

He’s in a good mood. The job must be going well. I’m going to tell him. Once I’ve finished making his favourite food and opened a bottle of wine, I’m going to be honest about everything. I know I wasn’t being paranoid earlier in Queen Square. That man had been following me, and when he saw I’d noticed he turned and went back in the opposite direction. If it is Adam, then why? What does he want from me?

We sit at Aoife’s little round table in the dining-room end of the open-plan kitchen-sitting room, with a view of the river. Rory makes a good stab at the food despite its charcoal aftertaste. He knows I’ve done this for him. He holds my hand across the table and tells me about his day in one of the tougher Bristol schools and uses words like ‘rewarding’ and ‘challenges’. All the while the food churns in my stomach and I hardly touch my wine.

Rory’s always been honest with me about what he wants. Marriage, and babies, a big, happy, bustling family like the one he came from. He wants loyalty and honesty; he doesn’t believe in lying. Even little white lies. Once, I didn’t want to go out with his university friends. It wasn’t that I don’t like them: they’re good fun and I love hearing stories about what they got up to when they all shared a house together. They called Rory Mrs Mopp because he was the one who cooked and cleaned. But on that particular night I was tired and just wanted to stay in and watch TV. I asked him to make an excuse for me, but he didn’t. He told them the truth when they came by to pick us up. ‘Sorry, mate, Jessie would rather stay in and watch Mad Men tonight,’ while I squirmed. Rory didn’t mind. He was good-natured about it and went out anyway. ‘I don’t see the point of lying,’ he’d said, when I’d questioned him about it afterwards. And I love that. Really, I do. But sometimes it’s a lot to live up to.

I take a deep breath. ‘I need to be honest with you. I’ve done something,’ I begin.

His face falls, the fork to his lips. ‘Oh, God. What have you done? Have you poisoned the food?’ He laughs.

‘Rory. Be serious. This is important.’

‘Okay, okay.’ He takes a forkful of noodles, his eyes shining.