‘I love you too, mate,’ she replied.

And he knew straight away that he’d misjudged the whole situation.

‘No, I mean … I love you. I’m in love with you.’ He was desperate now and he wished he’d never started.

She stopped drinking, holding the cup tightly in her hands, staring at him.

He found the courage to look back up, squirming inside as he realized that his confession had horrified her.

‘No you’re not,’ she said firmly.

He was confused. ‘Umm, but yes, I am!’

‘You’re deluded, that’s what you are. And talking absolute bollocks.’ She stood up and grabbed his unfinished drink from his hands.

‘I was hoping you might say you felt the same way!’

‘Gareth!’ She turned on him, trying to suppress her annoyance and keep the volume down. ‘Have you smoked weed tonight or something? You are not in love with me, and I am not in love with you. We are friends. We are flatmates. And that’s that! Now we both need sleep if we’re gonna get that flight tomorrow. So will you lock the back door, please?’

‘Sure,’ he answered her, a bit stumped as to what to say next.

She rinsed the mugs in silence, dried her hands and headed to the stairs, passing him where he stood, eaten up with embarrassment.

‘Jude, I’m sorry. I got it really wrong, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah, you did,’ she said, then relented with a little smile. ‘But don’t worry about it, OK?’ And she disappeared up to bed.

The next morning, despite the early hour, she’d been full of energy and bonhomie, as if compensating for the gaping hole that his confession had left in their friendship the night before. Her overzealous friendliness sent a silent message to him not to dare bring it up in conversation again. And so he didn’t. And to all intents and purposes, the journey home together had been civilized and friendly, and to any outsider they would have seemed like the best of mates. But once they were back home, it was as if they were just strangers sharing a property. Polite deference and a sense of unfamiliarity had created a difficult atmosphere in the flat.

Gareth was lying on the sofa, listening to The Clash and wondering how long they could continue avoiding each other like this. It’d been three days now. Judith had gone out every evening – Greek class or swimming or some other excuse. Would they ever return to how they once were, or had they crossed some kind of relationship Rubicon? Had he ruined what had up till now been a lovely, easy friendship – just because he’d completely misread the signs? He couldn’t unsay what he’d said on Saturday night. And nor did he really want to – it was the truth, after all.

Jude was probably going to tell Lana, which would make things between them even more awkward. And yes. This was a complete fucking mess.

Faintly, under the music, he heard her key in the door at the bottom of the stairs and the familiar sound of her feet climbing each step. When she reached the landing he waited to hear her go into her room and shut the door behind her, like she’d done every night since they’d come home from Cyprus. But tonight her footsteps took a different direction and within seconds she was standing in the doorway of the living room, the frown he knew so well furrowing her brow.