He took a gulp of coffee and cleared his throat. ‘But anyway,’ he continued, suddenly brisk and businesslike, ‘something which may be of genuine practical help to you, is that I still have all the text messages Ruby and I exchanged. We’ve used them in therapy, but they also back up my version of events, if you want to see them. Although, I should warn you that the most recent ones contain a number of rather disturbing threats involving my nads and a stapler.’

‘Well, as agonising as that sounds,’ I said, pulling a face, ‘I probably should look at them.’ I dreaded the prospect, but was also relieved at the possible existence of evidence which would remove the need for me to make a judgement call between the word of a lying, cheating ex and that of a possibly psychopathic friend.

‘Look, is your mind made up about us, Edie?’ asked Jason suddenly. ‘Forever and completely, I mean. I’m sure it is, but I have to ask.’

He offered me a look, heavy with regret and resignation. Jason being Jason, I was pretty certain that he already knew the answer to his own painful question. But I understood why he had chosen to ask it and I wasn’t sorry that he had. I was as in need of clarity and closure as he was.

‘I couldn’t go back, Jason, no matter what you said or did. I’m sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘You’ve nothing to apologise for, Edie.’

‘It’s not that I think you’re incapable of change, because I’m sure you are,’ I said, keen to inject a level of positivity into the conversation, despite its grim content and circumstances. ‘And I’m certain that, eventually, the new you will find someone to start over with.’

‘But it won’t be you.’ He didn’t make eye contact, focusing instead on his coffee with brow-furrowed intensity.

‘No. I’m afraid you look way too much like the bastard I used to live with.’

He stared into his coffee for a little longer, before smiling up at me. ‘I’ll tell my therapist you said that. He’ll be proud of you.’

We sat in silence for a moment and then I asked, ‘If I call or see Ruby, how do you think she’ll react?’

‘Denial,’ he said flatly, drinking his coffee. ‘Undoubtedly.’

‘And if there’s no room for denial? If your texts are incontrovertible?’

‘Well, when I told her something she didn’t want to hear,’ he said with a grimace, ‘she chucked a gin and tonic over me. But I don’t think she’d do that to you. She genuinely likes you and admires the fact that you have principles, even if they’re nowhere near Machiavellian enough for her. Plus, she craves your approval and it bothers her when you don’t agree on things.’

‘She told you that?’