‘No prizes for guessing which one’s his,’ Chloe breathed as she got out of the car. Her skirt clung to the back of her thighs, sticky from the pleather seats. Rav rang the doorbell and Chloe counted inside her head, trying to stay calm. She was about to see Max for the first time in a decade and a half, the first time since … She stopped herself. She was not going to be dragged back there, even for a moment, even inside her own head.

Moments later, there he was, framed by the doorway. His feet were tanned and bare, his legs clad in dark, expensive jeans. His linen shirt was untucked and he’d not done up anywhere near enough buttons. The belt was Gucci, the watch Breitling. It pained her to note that he was still exceptionally handsome – almost more than he had been, in that irritating way some men had of improving with age. She detected, as she allowed him to kiss her on each cheek, that he had changed his scent. At uni it had been CK One. Presumably, he wouldn’t wear anything quite so passé now.

‘Coco. You look stunning.’ Was there a hint of an Australian accent, after all those years there?

Her shoulders raised a quarter of an inch at the old nickname, the name Max had dubbed her with so many years ago. At the time, it had felt like being anointed, as if she belonged to some new and brilliant world. Most of their posh friends had nicknames. Girls named Georgia who everyone called Winky, or boys called Josh who everyone called Wank. Coco was the kind of silly, pretty, sexy name your parents gave you if they didn’t have to worry about you being taken seriously, if your life was destined to be parties and lunches, laughing and shopping.

Chloe pushed the bunch of flowers into his chest rather than saying anything and looked around. It was all so desperately Max – lots of glass and chrome, everything brand new. But there was another force at work, too, something undeniably feminine. There were candles flickering on most of the surfaces and cut flowers in several vases. It was almost eerily like Archer Crescent.

‘It’s a great place,’ she heard Rav say as he followed Max down a staircase. ‘Have you had a lot done?’ She moved after them, her hand on the cool banister, feet on glass stairs, unable to quite believe that Rav had talked her into this, that she hadn’t put up more of a fight.