Early on Sunday morning I headed for the park to clear my head. I jogged purposefully round the lake. My mind spun with questions. Did Mitch really only use Amber to get away? Had he ever had feelings for her? Did he really not know about Oliver and what his friend had done to me? Why was he still in touch with Amber if it had been over so long ago? The questions battered my brain, torturing my fragile psyche. I pounded faster and faster, willing exhaustion to stem the angst.

Arthur was also a worry. It was time to end our relationship, once and for all, before things got out of hand. I didn’t anticipate a scene. Arthur was placid, undemanding. Perhaps it was naïve arrogance which dismissed his bland gentleness so readily. I believed he was happy with the casual company, no strings attached. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

When I got back to the flat, the phone was ringing. I knew it was Mitch before I picked up.

‘Hi. Where did you disappear to? Hope you’re not avoiding me already.’ There it was: the lightness of tone; the devil-may-care. How easy it would have been to brush the last ten years under the carpet and forget they ever happened.

‘Of course not. I’ve been jogging and catching up on work.’

I heard his moment of hesitation. Mitch being unsure provided slight comfort.

‘When will I see you again? Is tonight too soon? You can’t keep a guy waiting.’ The teasing tone masked his confusion.

‘Can I call you? It’s all rather fast and there’s stuff I need to do,’ I said. The desire to see him tortured me with its urgency. Mitch was also suffering but I wasn’t prepared to assuage his anxiety too readily. There was work to be done, trust to be rebuilt and more answers to be gleaned.

‘Give me a few days. Yes, I promise.’ I smiled down the phone at his persistence. He made a faint kissing sound and I laughed. Then he was gone.

As I fussed around the flat, uneasy at Arthur’s upcoming visit, I decided not to mention spotting his car in Barnet on Saturday night. I didn’t want confirmation that he might have been following me. Once I put him straight, told him it was all over, his pride and self-respect would force him to get the message. I hoped he would leave without a fuss.

Preparation of bland fare and an early declaration that I was off alcohol for health reasons was as far ahead as I’d planned.

‘Hi. Come in.’ I wore a buttoned-up blouse, a work outfit, to play down any sexual overtones. Efficient with a mission was my intent. The ostentatious bouquet of flowers and expensive champagne threw me off-kilter and tension followed when I realised we were singing from two completely different hymn sheets.