We were walking along the top of the dyke when we glimpsed the lake. It was as blue as the sky and took our breath away. It was wonderful to walk with someone who really felt the force of nature. It was a real connection. Karl was strangely impervious to nature; whether we were watching bursts of lava spewing from Etna, or just the last of the sun going down, I’d have to point the spectacle out, draw his focus. He’d stop and look and try to be impressed, because he knew he was meant to be feeling something. And the gap between us would increase. Then he would bring us close again with a joke, almost apologizing for his lack of wonder. I wish I’d brought my watercolours. We’d found a way that worked: we substituted laughter for connection. And so laughter became our connection, which in its own way is wonderful. But with Ness it was different. She and I spoke the same language: we both stopped and looked at the lake at exactly the same time, just because we both did.

By the time we reached it, we were boiling; we took our socks and shoes off and sat at the edge with our feet dangling in the water, basking in the warm sunshine. There wasn’t a soul about. I splashed the icy water on to my face and hair and we ate the last of the Kendal Mint Cake. Then Ness sat up abruptly, rummaged in the backpack and pulled out her parka, unzipped a pocket and produced a lighter and the remnants of a fat spliff.

‘Yes!’ she said. ‘I knew I had it! Leah and I smoked half of this last week!’

Weed had gone out of fashion for some reason – parenthood had made cokeheads out of everyone. (Well, smoking’s so bad for your health, isn’t it, Dr. R?) She passed it under my nose and then lit up. This was a moment of bliss, the sort you crave for when you’re stuck on a crowded tube.

We lay in the grass in an easy silence, our toes flicking the water, feeling the warm sun on our skin; bees and buzzing things meandering by, dropping in to see whether we were worth pollinating. I watched an eagle hovering above high in the sky and felt Ness shift on to her elbow at my side. She was close; I could smell her. She smelt of me. Me without the body odour. She passed me the spliff.

‘When you met Karl, did you know straight away he was the one?’

I took a drag and softly blew the thick smoke out before turning to look at her.

‘I’m not sure I believe in the one.’