I tip my sunglasses down a fraction with a finger, looking at Jess over the top of the lenses. She catches my gaze for the briefest of moments. Her eyes dart away from mine, and her mouth twitches in the way it does whenever she’s trying not to laugh. I look the other way and smile.

Outside in the beer garden of the Spaniards, Gen’s sitting at a wooden table with a tall, rather pissed-off-looking man in a long, drooping sort of coat that matches his long, drooping hair and face – like one of the Basset Hounds we’ve just seen. The other tables are full of tourists, cameras hanging round their necks and guide books and maps spread out between their drinks.

‘Alex!’ Gen stands up and kisses me on the cheek. She smells of apple shampoo and chewing gum. Her red curls are a wild halo around her face. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’

‘Fancy,’ I say, drily. ‘Shall I get us some drinks?’

‘I’ll get them,’ says James, taking his wallet out of his pocket. ‘What do you guys want?’

Gen and her lugubrious-looking boyfriend ponder for a moment, which gives me time to make a rapid escape plan.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, scrolling down the screen and frowning in an exaggerated manner, before firing off a rapid text.

‘Alex? Drink?’ James looks over at me. He’s so solid and wholesome. All he needs is a tail to wag and he’d be off.

I shake my head sorrowfully. ‘Sorry, guys, something’s come up.’ I wave the phone as evidence. ‘Just had a message. I’ve got to get across town. Work stuff.’

Jess gives me a very sharp look. I look back, my expression one of injured innocence, and raise a hand in farewell, vaulting over the wooden fence of the beer garden, striding off in the direction of the tube.

Jess

I don’t for one second believe that Alex had something come up at work. For one thing, he’s not working today. For another, he was clearly finding it as excruciatingly awkward as I was. Introducing boyfriends to existing friends is bloody hard work. Even more so when the existing friend is – well, I’m not even going to go there. James is lovely, and charming, and when I get back from the loo he’s sitting chatting quite happily to Gen and her boyfriend. There, you see. Perfect boyfriend material. And objectively speaking, he’s good-looking too, in a sort of posh boy way. I mean not that I’m being objective. I should be being subjective. But – oh, you know what I mean. It’s just . . .