Outside on Albany Road the light’s already fading, and the sky’s a strange blue, tinged with orange. It’s freezing cold. My breath clouds as I sprint up the street, jumping over a pile of cardboard boxes folded up by the red letterbox, and head towards Little Venice. The strains of carol singers on the corner of Talbot Road drift towards me as I stop for a minute, doubled over, catching my breath. God, I really need to get back to the gym.

‘Mummy,’ says a little girl, wrapped up against the cold in a bright red woollen coat, ‘do you think Father Christmas gets cold living at the North Pole?’

‘Definitely not,’ I say, straightening up and looking at the solemn-faced little girl. ‘I think he’s got a nice warm coat like yours to keep him toasty.’

‘Exactly,’ said the mother, giving me a conspiratorial smile. ‘See. That nice man knows, too. Everyone knows.’

I set off again at a jog. The streetlights are on, and cars line up with red buses and chunky black London cabs along Delamere Terrace as I head towards the trees and water of Little Venice. Running to the end of the road, I stand on the footpath and shade my eyes, realising that tiny pinprick flakes of snow are starting to fall.

Is that – I screw up my eyes—

It’s definitely her.

‘Jess!’

I can see her, sitting outside despite the freezing cold, a black bobble hat on her dark hair, a thick scarf wrapped around her neck. She’s in her red coat, and she stands out in the crowds of people – as if she’s the only one there. She’s standing up, putting something in her bag.

‘Jess!’ I call again, and she half-turns, as if she’d almost heard, but isn’t quite sure.

Jess

I shove my phone back in my bag and stand up, putting the coffee cup and sugar sachets back on my tray. I can’t decide what to do.

And then I think I hear someone calling my name. I look around, wondering if I’m imagining things. And a second later, more urgently, I hear it once more.

‘Jess!’

Standing at the top of the road is Alex, his T-shirt hanging out from under the huge blue sweater he wears around the house, no coat on despite the fact it’s zero degrees and starting to snow. My heart feels as if someone’s shot it with about a million volts of electricity and I walk towards him as he weaves his way through the meandering tourists, bumping into them and apologising, his face – his lovely face – one huge ridiculous grin of happiness.

We reach each other and stand on the canal path, beside the houseboat we’ve both said we’d love to live in, and we stare at each other for a moment.

‘Hi,’ says Alex, after a moment.

‘How did you know where I was?’