Just as Quinn picked up a spoon, just as the evening felt it was back on track, he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket again. At the same moment, Polly started making a gagging sound and he turned to see her spit out the pudding, which she’d popped whole into her mouth. Quinn reached into his jacket pocket as he asked, ‘Are you OK?’

Polly’s whole face creased in a grimace. Quinn glanced at his phone. He didn’t need to look, he knew who was calling.

‘There’s something in it,’ Polly said, ‘something grisly.’ Polly started poking the tiny pudding with her fork. ‘I think it’s plastic.’

Quinn shifted uncomfortably in his chair, moving the pulsing phone to his lap, every muscle in his body tensed, the air in the room suddenly feeling dense and suffocating. Polly shook her head and cleared her throat again.

‘Quinn, I just choked and you’re looking at your phone.’

‘You didn’t choke,’ he said weakly. ‘You spat it out.’

‘Just answer it,’ she said, closing her eyes.

Quinn hung up the call, switching his phone from vibrate to silent. He topped up Polly’s water glass with a shaking hand.

Polly called a waiter over and told him about the plastic in her dessert. She said she didn’t like to complain, but she was worried someone else’s pudding might be affected. He was profusely apologetic and brought over a complimentary bottle of champagne. Quinn tried to relax, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what might be going on at home. This feeling, of being made to be a bad boyfriend or a bad son, he hated it; it made him feel physically nauseous.

There was no crass countdown at Le Lieu de Rencontre. New Year was announced by the sound of glasses clinking and murmurs of ‘Happy New Year’ echoing around the room. Outside, the dark horizon erupted into shards of light tearing through the darkness. The distant boom and crackle of explosions audible even through the thick glass. Directly across the park, the fireworks appeared to converge in a fountain of light, and stardust rained from the sky.

They both sat in silence watching the spectacle outside. Then Polly slowly raised her glass to his, a pensive look in her eyes.

‘To us, to the next chapter,’ Quinn said with forced jollity. He could feel his forehead beading with sweat.

‘Just call her back,’ Polly said quietly, ‘I know you won’t relax until you do.’