IT DIDN’T HAPPEN quite like that, although I started well. I listened to my answering machine, called Greg’s parents and arranged to see them the following weekend. I checked my mobile and saw that there were three messages and two texts from Frances. Basically, they all said the same thing. I need you. Beth’s away. I’m alone. Please come back. I turned on my new pay-as-you-go mobile and saw that there were three missed calls from the person I now knew to be David. I put on a CD of jazz music, washed the dishes lying in the sink, then marinated one of the chicken breasts in coriander and lemon and put the other in the freezer with the salmon fillets. I got as far as opening the bottle of wine, laying a plate, a knife and a fork on the table, and setting a pan on the hob to heat the oil. But I was interrupted by a knock, so I took the pan off and went to answer.

As the door swung open and I saw who was standing there, I considered slamming it, putting on the chain, running upstairs and pulling the duvet over my head, jamming my fingers in my ears, blocking out the world and all its mess. But even as I thought it, there we stood, face to face, and there was nothing I could do except fix an inane smile in place and hope he couldn’t see the panic behind it.

“Gwen?”

“Johnny!”

“Don’t look so surprised—you didn’t think I was just going to let you disappear, did you? You can’t get away as easily as that.”

“But how did you know where I lived?”

“Is it a problem?”

“No—it’s just I don’t remember telling you.”

“I heard you give your address to the taxi driver that night. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Everything’s a mess. Maybe we should go out for a drink instead,” I said wildly.

“You’ve seen how I live. Now I’m going to see how you live,” he said, and stepped over the threshold. “It doesn’t look that messy.”

“I was about to go out.”

“It looks to me,” he said, entering the kitchen as if he owned it, “as if you were about to make a nice little supper for one. Shall I pour us some wine?”

“No,” I said. “Or yes—yes. Why not? Just half a glass.”

“So, you like jazz, do you?”