Carla looked up at the windows of her flat. They were depressingly dark, which meant Baz wasn’t home. The car engine was still running and she knew Nell was waiting for her to get out, but her legs weren’t playing ball.

‘Would you like to come up for a beer?’ she said, before her brain had time to question it. ‘Or wine.’ She suddenly realised she had no idea what Nell drank.

Nell hesitated, then took the key from the ignition. ‘Sure, why not.’

Despite the darkness of the flat, Carla immediately knew Baz had gone for good. She spent ten minutes scouring every inch of the place for a sign he’d once lived there, but his shaver was gone from the bathroom, clothes from the bedroom, even his morning mug from the kitchen, until it felt like the only thing left to prove he’d ever lived there was the faintest smell of his aftershave.

Carla sat on the small sofa. Nell had opened a bottle of wine and was standing by the kitchen door.

‘There’s a letter,’ she said.

Carla looked at the envelope on the coffee table, the familiar writing scrawled across the paper in black. Pulling her feet under herself, she dragged a blanket around her shoulders, using it to cover her face too. That couldn’t be it. Surely he wouldn’t leave her after everything they’d been through, all the history they shared?

Nell walked over and sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling the wine and two glasses.

‘What’s going on?’ She poured Carla a glass and then one for herself.

‘He’s left me,’ Carla said, having downed half the glass in one before explaining.

‘Look, this is just a blip, OK?’ Nell said. ‘He’s making a grand gesture to show how upset he is before coming back with his tail between his legs to beg for forgiveness.’

‘You don’t know Baz. He’s as stubborn as they come.’

‘No, I don’t.’ Nell waved the bottle, swaying slightly. ‘But I know men. They’re kids, the lot of them. As soon as you know that, you can handle them. How do you think I manage Paul? I think of him as a poor lost toddler and work from there.’

Carla laughed. ‘Maybe I should have been a lesbian.’

Nell shook her head, digging out her cigarettes from her jacket. ‘Big hetero misconception – that there’s a choice. Or that it’s any easier,’ Nell added, holding up her lighter. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Out the window,’ Carla said, picking up her tobacco.

‘For God’s sake, have a real one for once, live a little.’ And pushing a Marlboro into her hand, Nell headed to the window seat.