But mostly, I tried not to think about her at all, focusing instead upon more immediate matters – such as tracking down and bagging Anthony’s poos, which he would insist on doing on the run.

However, my ability to ignore the matter of Ruby came to an abrupt end at eight p.m. that evening, when I received a text from the woman herself. Giles had just gone upstairs for a post-run shower and I was settling down on the sofa to read Factfulness – a book all about the importance of forming fact-based, rather than bias-based, opinions – when my phone pinged.

It was with some reluctance that I opened the newly delivered text.

Hi! Out with boss/friends from work – knackered, but they insisted. Worried because I haven’t heard from you and you looked so wrung-out on Monday. How are things? There’s a job coming up here so let me know if you want details. The office is totally creep-free, I promise! Hope all creeps staying away from you and that includes Jason. Is he hassling you? x

I read her text twice, acknowledging it to be actually a rather impressive composition; fewer than one hundred words and with more triggers than a rifle range. In just a few short sentences she had managed to highlight my dodgy physical appearance, emphasise her own personal appeal, contrast her fun-loving colleagues with my pervy one and sneak in a last-minute reference to my faithless ex.

I read it just once more before, with preternatural calmness possibly borne of mild insanity, composing one of my own.

Hi Jason. Sorry for my reaction on Tuesday. I know telling me about Ruby wasn’t easy. I’d really appreciate another opportunity to talk, now that I’ve calmed down. Are you free tomorrow or Sunday? Or another day? Just let me know. If you don’t want to, that’s fine – I understand. E

I pressed ‘send’, just as Giles entered, now in his pyjamas and dressing gown and carrying a mug. I watched as he settled himself into an armchair and placed his slippered feet on the velvet pouffe. ‘Cocoa and slippers,’ he sighed contentedly. ‘Just like the dorm days, except without the beatings.’

‘How was your run?’ I asked, picking up my book.

‘Knackering. No other word for it.’ He placed a hand on his midriff. ‘Just hope it’s doing some good.’

He flopped his head back in the chair and stared upwards at the ceiling. I studied his profile, including his increasingly well-defined jawline.

‘Your face has changed shape,’ I said.

He eased his head upright and looked at me. ‘For better or worse?’

‘Well, you were very handsome anyway…’

‘Goes without saying.’

‘But you’re looking especially fine today.’

‘Clearly a dose of dysentery was just the ticket,’ he said. ‘Now, are you planning to watch TV or read your book? Or check your phone?’ he added, nodding towards my lap as my mobile pinged.