She looked momentarily crushed. I didn’t like myself for it: it’s so easy to make people feel small. Yet my response gave away more than she heard, don’t you think?

‘I was still busy thinking I’d found the one in someone else,’ I said, to make amends. She looked at me in that particular way she had, out of the corners of her eyes. It was alluring. ‘It’s funny how things work out,’ I continued. ‘The decisions you never consciously make. When I met Karl, I certainly wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone. But he was like a breath of fresh air. Then he kind of set me in his sights.’ I smiled to remember how, in those early days, he would turn up uninvited wherever I went. I was unfriendly, my brother was blatantly rude to him – he’d come over from Australia for a family reunion – but Karl never took offence. His pursuit was relentless. (In your profession you might call it stalking, but it veered just to the right side of it.) ‘And he was so funny! I couldn’t not be charmed by him.’

‘Yes, he is charming,’ she said. She had a slight edge to her voice so that I couldn’t tell what she meant by that, whether she was being critical of him. I hoped not. I wanted her to be charmed by him; I wanted her onside.

‘He’d been brought in by this magazine I was writing for; they were hiring and firing at the top. I was asked to show him around. We ended up having lunch together and he asked me out. We went on a few dates and soon it became apparent that we had similar outlooks on life, we both wanted the same things . . . it was all so easy. There was no reason not to be with him.’ I laughed, feeling a wave of incredible fondness for Karl. (Interesting how we shape our own narratives to fit our stories. You mustn’t take my version for the truth – I’m sure you don’t.) For some reason I failed to mention to Ness that Karl had been a serial Lothario and during those first few months together I discovered at least three other women who thought they were going out with him. (Is this perhaps what kept me keen? Win the competition then let the cup gather dust? I hope I’m not that petty, but I might be.) I know why I didn’t tell her: I didn’t want to see her incredulity or hear her disapproval. I was protective of him, of us.

Ness was leaning on her elbow, facing me, one breast leaning heavily on the other. I took another drag.