‘Right,’ I said, and actually it was fortunate that she walked in just then and administered a cold dose of reality, because he ought not to have done anything that might alienate his best-paying author, Sergei, and I didn’t want to cause him to do that; and anyway it’s always a big mistake to mix business with pleasure.

So before I knew it we were suddenly sitting far apart and talking in agent–author mode again, though our eyes were saying warmer things and clearly we shared a lust that dare not speak its name.

After a while I went home with even more to think about. Just how long could I keep the threads of my life running smoothly parallel without them suddenly jumping over and knotting up? Then I remembered that I wouldn’t personally have to worry about the Sergei thread any more, except on Nathan’s account, and I went sort of cold and hollow again as though something vital had been taken away, like the last solid heart from a set of Russian matryoshka dolls.

When I was letting myself out (because Nathan was taking a phone call), Rachel came through a door into the hall and said I must be Tina Devino, but she’d thought I was younger.

‘And you must be Nathan’s ex-fiancée,’ I said pleasantly, ‘but I thought you’d run off with the best man?’

And then we both smiled (lips only) and Rachel said she’d had a slight crisis with pre-wedding nerves and gone away to find herself, but Nathan understood, and they’d put the past behind them, and I said how lovely for her to be able to pick up where she left off and was the wedding on again? she said, all narrow-eyed, that they didn’t want to rush things this time and so they hadn’t set a date yet. So now we knew where we all were – for the moment.

Ever had the feeling you are involved in an emotional Armageddon, one that you are unlikely to win? Paradoxically, the more I got to know Nathan, the less he inspired my writing.