She had given every impression of accepting the pretence. He had lied to her, and to the twenty-five-year-old health professional, too, whose name was not Javed, in fact, but Jared with an ‘r’. Not that his life was tangled with Jared’s, of course, because they hadn’t invested in anything except an hour of irretrievable time. But he had lied, nonetheless, about how much he drank. He had lied about his intention to get an expensive bicycle, too.

He had no money – how would he buy a new bicycle?

The young man had seemed impressed, though, and they’d spent two minutes at least talking about road-bikes versus hybrids – the weight, the gears, the tread – and he talked on, trying not to think about Amy and what she would do. Perhaps she would sigh with relief, and shake her head.

‘Do you know, I’d reached just the same conclusion?’ she might say – and they would hold each other.

‘Thank you for being honest, Michael.’

‘No,’ he’d reply. ‘Thank you. We can still be friends, can’t we?’

‘Always, Michael – of course. I will always think of you as my best, best friend.’

‘I am that, Amy. I will try to be.’

Alternatively, she might stand there blank-faced, unable to speak. She might simply fail to comprehend the silent collapse of all those plans, so lovingly and painstakingly made. She had dry lips, and he could see the words that would inevitably form on them.

‘What do you mean? Why?’

Those were the words she would have to use. There were no others, really. They would precede more violent ones, of course, but she would spend the first few moments floundering. She would lean on the little breakfast-bar, and he could see her thin wrists holding up her almost skeletal frame – the frame he’d embraced and held against his own, and tried so hard to need.

‘You lied to yourself,’ said Michael very quietly. He went to stand up, but at that moment there was another announcement.

‘The 09.46 to Great Malvern,’ said the voice, ‘is delayed by twelve minutes. We are sorry for the inconvenience this will cause.’

They were sorry again.

Michael looked at the woman he had been talking to, and smiled. She was attending to her phone, and didn’t look up – the headphones were still in her ears. A small suitcase sat at her feet, and she was dressed in several layers, because it was a cold September day with rain forecast.

He had only a small, grey shoulder bag.

You lie to yourself, he thought. You don’t believe your own lies, but you hope they might come true – or perhaps they simply distract you. You had a good enough bike, because it was Amy’s brother who’d lent it to you. Why did you tell Jared you wanted a hybrid?

Jared had believed him.