Bill carried on rolling, placid, careful. He’d taken off his leathers and was in jeans and a jumper of some robust grey wool, despite the heat. He’d hardly changed at all in twenty years. Lanky, laconic, his brown hair a bit too long, though now it was streaked with grey. I’d made sure to sit on the other side of the table from him, because some part of my brain was thoroughly thrown by his presence, after all these years. Remembering that night. His hand on my face, his breath on my neck. But no, I wasn’t thinking about that either. ‘Bit of this, bit of that. Where we lived was sort of self-sufficient. I’d barter my labour for food, wood-chopping, driving, that sort of thing.’

‘Sounds like a commune.’

‘I guess it was a bit.’

‘But tell me this. You and Miss Sweden are kaput, yes?’

Jodi frowned at Callum. Be tactful. But Bill never rose to Callum’s banter, never had. In a strange way, they got on well. ‘Sadly, yes, we broke up a few months ago.’

‘How come, Bill?’ said Karen. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’

Bill smiled at her, the warm lopsided crease I remembered so well. There were always a few moments before he answered any question. I liked that. I liked the feeling he was thinking about what you’d said, considering it. ‘I don’t mind. She wanted us to have a child. Adopted, probably, though she thought it was worth giving IVF a whirl first.’

‘Hardly a whirl,’ said Jodi, rubbing her own belly. ‘Bloody expensive. Heartbreaking, too.’

‘I know. I told her that. Plus, as you know, she’s older than us. But anyway it didn’t matter because I don’t want kids, adopted or IVF or anything.’

‘Haven’t changed your mind then?’ said Callum, wiping his plate with sourdough. Across the table, I saw Cassie lift up her phone, bored by the conversation. Jake picked the vegetables from the tagine bowl.

‘Nope.’

I remembered Bill at university, expounding on Malthusian population theory and global warming and the world our children were going to be born into. Of course, a lot of students say these things then change their minds, but I think I knew even then that Bill meant it. It was one of the reasons things had happened the way they did.

‘So what will you do?’ Karen asked. She’d changed into a low-cut black dress while I was out, so as she leaned forward I could see her cleavage, high and firm for a woman of forty-three. Of course, she hadn’t breastfed Jake. ‘Will you stay in Sweden? Can I have a cig, by the way?’