I cock my arm out for her to link so I can walk her back across the road. Cathy knows my story. Knows everything about me. Every dirty detail. I managed to keep her in the dark for two years, not bad, all things considered, but eight years ago it all went to shit. It was my birthday. My thirtieth. Our thirtieth. I’m surprised I didn’t kill myself with the amount of alcohol I drank that night. Poor Cathy found me in the morning. Called John, who called Sarah, who both turned up and said way too much in front of my sweet, wholesome housekeeper. I never expected to see Cathy again after that. “Nothing has happened,” I say, spotting a traffic warden taking a picture of my car on the lines. “I’ll put these in the boot.” I leave her on the pavement as I pop the boot and drop her shopping in.

“You can’t park here, sir,” the warden says, starting to tap at his device.

I roll my eyes and guide Cathy to the passenger door. “I’m helping an old lady with her shopping.”

I get a whack on my bicep for my trouble. “Less of the old, boy,” she snaps, and the warden laughs. “Give him a ticket,” she orders. “I’m perfectly capable of walking to the nearest car park, he’s just being lazy.”

I laugh under my breath and help her into the seat, hearing the warden laugh harder when she starts batting my helping hands away. “You in?”

“Yes, I’m in,” she declares, and I close the door, turning to face the warden, holding out my hand for the ticket.

He shakes his head. “Go on, before I change my mind.”

I smile and give him a friendly smack on his shoulder. “Good man.”

I land in my seat and pull off a lot slower than usual. “Listen, this new place. It’s rather large,” I tell her, not wanting Cathy to be too overwhelmed by the size of my new penthouse.

“I don’t understand it,” she muses. “There’s just you. Why do you need such a gigantic home?” She looks across to me. “Or do you have something to tell me?”

“Like what?”

“You know I live in hope that you’ll settle down, Jesse. You can’t carry on the way you do forever.”