On the way over to the Deanery, Nevis had felt a stirring in her belly. The Dean had taken a special interest in her which could only mean that in some small way she was herself special. Gifted, if only in the mathematical realm. No one other than Satnam and, perhaps, Bill, their neighbour on the water in Hackney, had ever sought out her company. Her life had been lived in the absence of birthday party invitations and sleepovers. She’d never gone out for meals, was a stranger to a catch-up drink or a weekend get-together. Now, finally, someone had invited her somewhere, and not just anyone, but the man whose intellect and mathematical intelligence she respected more than that of anyone else she had ever met. By the time she reached the Dean’s door she’d all but forgotten Jessica and felt almost dizzy with excitement.

Now, hurrying to stay abreast of the Dean as he strides across the car park towards the main campus gate, she feels the light, summery expansiveness inside her gradually fading. The Dean fills the opening space on their short walk to the restaurant with small talk about the university. Struggling to keep pace, Nevis does her best to reciprocate but she’s already hopelessly out of her depth.

Before long he stops at a brightly lit doorway and pushes it open, lifting his arm to form an arch to allow Nevis to proceed into the interior. A short, wiry man comes up, smiling warmly, and greets the Dean with a vigorous handshake and hesitates as if waiting for something to happen. The Dean, returning the smile with one of his own, says, ‘Don’t worry, Luigi, I’ve got it,’ and turning to Nevis with raised eyebrows, holds out a hand and says, ‘Your coat?’

Nevis fumbles with the buttons, embarrassed at her hopelessness. Her earlier airiness, her sense of possibility, felt like an overlay now, a temporary concealment, like a cloud passing over the midsummer sun. All gone now, leaving her feeling like she might bake in the bright heat of Cullen’s brilliance.