‘I don’t know.’ I can feel excitement and terror in equal measures bubbling up inside of me. I haven’t told anyone else about this yet—including Dean—and it feels so strange to hear it coming out of my own mouth. ‘But I’ve seen a different way of living and I have to try it.’

‘Well,’ Monica says, ‘you can’t say fairer than that.’

‘Plus, you get my view on a permanent basis.’ We both look out of the window and across the grey expanse of the Thames.

‘Cool.’ Monica cheers up considerably. She rubs her hands together. ‘I suppose one of us ought to do some work today.’

‘Thanks, Mon.’

‘By the way,’ she says as she stands up, ‘where do you want to have your leaving do?’

And I have to say that I think that’s the least of my worries.

Chapter seventy-eight

Chapter seventy-eight

‘How did your first day back go?’ Jake says brightly. He has on his frilly apron again and a lasagne in his hands, which he slides with a practised flourish into the gaping oven.

I strip off my coat and throw down my bag, massaging my temples as I do so. ‘Jake, sit down,’ I say. ‘We need to talk.’ I hate saying that, it makes me sound like some bit-part actress in a soap opera, but try as I might I couldn’t think of another way to broach this.

‘Do you want a glass of wine?’ He waves a glass at me. ‘I opened a nice bottle of red to let it breathe.’ He shows me the bottle and sniffs appreciatively at it. ‘Mmm. Wonderful.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘No wine. Thanks.’

‘Do you want me to grate some parmesan for the lasagne? I nipped up to the high street this afternoon, into that new Italian deli, and bought some really nice cheeses.’

‘Jake.’ How do I stop him chattering? ‘Just sit down. Please. This is important.’

He comes and sits down at the table. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’

‘I won’t be long either,’ I promise.

Jake looks at me expectantly. There’s a new lightness to his spirit and I can hardly bring myself to crush it, but I guess there’s no easy way to do this. Whenever a relationship breaks down, one person is always going to be more hurt than the other. Last time it was me. This time it’s Jake’s turn. I wonder if he went through such agonies when he left me for Neve? But I can’t worry about that now. What’s done is done and nothing we can do will turn back the clock. I take a deep breath. ‘I’m going back to Nepal.’

He looks at me blankly.

‘I’m going back,’ I repeat when he says nothing.

‘What for?’

‘I’ve arranged a teaching post.’

‘But you’re a magazine editor,’ he says.

‘Not anymore,’ I point out. ‘I resigned today.’