If he’d been thinking the same, Gareth didn’t give anything away. ‘It was such a long time ago,’ he said softly.

And finally he turned to look at her.

‘Lana,’ he said, and held her gaze.

She jumped in. ‘Can I just say first of all that I’m really—’

‘Please don’t,’ he interrupted. ‘What’s the point? It can’t change anything, can it?’

‘No,’ she replied. ‘But it might make me feel the tiniest bit better if you did let me say sorry. Because it lives with me, Gareth. Every day. And I’m always gonna feel responsible. No matter how much Catrin tells me otherwise.’

Gareth sighed and shook his head.

‘What happened happened, Lana. And you are no more responsible for it than her b’there outside the post office.’

Lana glanced in the direction of a blonde woman on her phone, surrounded by bags of shopping and looking stressed. ‘I think that’s Geraldine Harper, y’know?’

Gareth put on the glasses which he kept inside his jacket and took a closer look. ‘God, yeah, it is! Jude told me she’s a great-grandmother now.’

‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ said Lana, watching as Gareth took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Dirty mare.’

And Gareth spat out his drink, laughing. Which made Lana laugh. And the ice was broken.

After a few moments he said, ‘Anyway, if anyone should apologize, it’s me. I just … I dunno, we get into a groove in life, we write these stories, don’t we? And I’d got used to making you the bad guy. It was stupid … senseless …’

‘No, it wasn’t.’

‘Yeah, it was. I just think maybe you and Jude might have made up if it wasn’t for me.’

‘I’m not sure we would, you know,’ Lana said wistfully, staring into her coffee cup.

‘D’you miss her?’ he asked.

The question took her by surprise.

‘Not any more.’ The words caught in her throat, suggesting this might be a lie. ‘Truth is, we’ve been enemies much longer than we were friends, if you think about it. And we’ve probably both got used to that now.’

Gareth frowned. ‘I think enemies is a bit extreme, don’t you?’

‘Well, y’know me, ever the drama queen.’

He smiled, then she said, ‘Oh fuck it, Gar. Today’s what matters, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not like we can say to some big boss person in the sky, Oh sorry, I made a mistake there, in nineteen eighty whatever, can I go back and re-do it? We are where we are, aren’t we?’

Gareth nodded, taking the cue to change the subject. There was only so much could be said.

‘Romy tells me you’re a Cher impersonator these days!’

‘Yeah, and Celine Dion.’

He smiled. ‘Classy.’

‘It pays disgustingly well and I get to wear nice wigs.’ She laughed, though there was a part of her that felt embarrassed to be saying this in front of the person who’d known her when her eighteen-year-old’s ambition was fresh and she hungered for bigger things.