She is exhausted. Her body is grimy with sweat, her clothes sticking to her skin. She feels empty – not just because she hasn’t eaten all day, but emotionally, her mind drained.

Even though they haven’t said anything, Sophie feels the judgement from Robin and Josie. Why hadn’t she known about the state of Finn’s flat? Why hadn’t she tried to stop him taking the LSD? Why hadn’t she encouraged him to eat better, to look after himself? She had tried to speak to Finn, tried to get him to open up. But he’d been so stressed, so busy. She hadn’t wanted to pile on more pressure. And he is a grown man, she tells herself. Finn is a forty-three-year-old adult, an intelligent man, who can make his own decisions. But still. That feeling of guilt remains.

She can’t believe what has happened. She went to bed last night excited about what the future might hold. Finn was on the edge of making a huge breakthrough in his field. If the new technology had worked, he would have made a name for himself. He could have worked anywhere in the world, in the most prestigious universities, talking about and teaching what he loved. And she would have gone with him. She would have never left his side.

Finn is different to her usual boyfriends. In the past, she caught the eye of flashier types: men with nice cars and even nicer homes, who would barely listen when she mentioned what she did for a living. They didn’t challenge her – she knew she was smarter than them, and as long as they didn’t realise it, she could do and say what she liked.

But on one faculty night out, Finn had turned to her and simply said: ‘You’re wrong.’

‘Pardon?’ Sophie had replied.

‘What you just said, about the coffee? That’s actually true.’

She’d been talking about a story she’d read on Twitter, which claimed that scientists who work with cockroaches often become allergic to pre-ground coffee. She’d scoffed at the people that believed it, prompting superior laughter from all around her. But not from Finn.

‘Many scientists develop allergies to the things they study,’ he’d explained. ‘And the cockroaches that infect large piles of coffee beans are too expensive to remove, so they just grind them up into the coffee.’ He’d stared at her, with those dark eyes of his, a small smile touching the edges of his mouth. ‘But that’s America for you, Ms Hall,’ he’d finished.

Sophie knew that some people found him strange. His manner, that blunt challenge, his clinical approach to information and knowledge. But she thought he was fascinating. She could tell there was more to him than that self-imposed distance. That the air of arrogance was simply shyness and a lack of confidence.