She’s dressed beautifully as ever, her hair hanging in a shiny curtain down her back. There’s a rumble of music from downstairs – Rob must’ve woken up from his post-work sleep, and be getting ready to head off to the restaurant. I pick up the pile of letters and rifle through them, checking none are for me – which thankfully they’re not, as all I seem to get is junk mail and credit card bills – and stack them neatly on the dresser in the hall.

‘Anyway,’ she starts, pausing to run lipstick around her lips, looking at me in the mirror in the hall. I look back at her reflection for a second.

‘You all right?’ I ask.

She nods. ‘You?’

I nod as well. It’s the nearest we’re going to get to a well that was nice while it lasted, but that’s it conversation.

She picks up her keys and puts them in her expensive-looking red leather bag. ‘I better get going. We’re having lunch at the Granary this afternoon.’

She slings her bag over her shoulder, opens the door, and heads down the stairs and onto the street.

I sit on the overground train heading towards Stratford, head against the window, staring out but not really taking in what I’m seeing. It’s only when the woman sitting opposite drops her bag on my foot that I glance up, realising I’ve almost missed my stop.

‘Sorry, excuse me,’ I say, climbing out of the seat and heading for the exit. I check my watch – I don’t want to get there early and be hovering outside Kenwood House like a loser. I nip into the bakery beside the station and get a sandwich and a can of Coke, and eat them sitting at the entrance to the Heath, before setting off through the trees.

It feels like everyone in London’s here today – dogs on extendable leads getting tangled round each other, and little kids on training bikes being chased downhill by exasperated-looking parents. I march up towards Kenwood House – I haven’t been there for ages, and it was one of the places I’d planned to show Jess on our walks. I just hadn’t banked on James being there, too. It comes into sight – huge and magnificent at the crest of the hill – and I wonder what it’d be like to live in a place like that. Mind you, I bet people think that about our place. I’ve had more than my fair share of raised eyebrows at college when I’ve told them I live on Albany Road. I wonder how long it’ll be before Becky sells the place? I can’t imagine her keeping it as a house-share when it’s worth millions.

I walk around the edge of the house to the place where we’ve arranged to meet, and—

‘Alex, there you are.’