I looked up at the ceiling, then at the ground; anything to avoid eye contact. I suspected Marion had me down as a liability, perhaps a manipulative pawn in the two men’s hearts.

‘I’m just curious.’ She seemed to sense my unease.

Fearing the worst, I was thrown by her next question.

‘Rebecca, when would you like to start? If you’d like the job, it’s yours.’ Marion stood, brushed down the side of her sheer dress with her hands. ‘If you need time, please don’t dither. Sales are getting busier by the day.’

Her smile was genuine. If she guessed at my past, it didn’t matter. As she collated the paperwork and pushed her chair back under the table, I took a deep breath and replied.

‘Yes. I’d love the job. Thank you.’

It was inevitable I’d make a detour home past my old place of work. It was a trip that had to be made. I walked past Harrods, not stopping to window-shop. I pulled my coat tighter and carried on. Black cabs and red buses squeezed past, cheek by jowl on the road while tourists and shoppers crowded the pavements. I realised then how much I’d missed London.

The side streets grew familiar. Haunting memories flooded back.

At exactly midday I reached the patisserie. Bright lights blazed over the displays of homemade sweetmeats. I glanced through the window, over the top of artificial snow sprayed into the corners. Dominique, her hair tucked neatly under her white cap, was busy with customers. It was as if time had stopped.

I paused when I reached the door to Pennington’s Art Gallery; to catch my breath. The Open sign faced outwards. I remembered Oliver playing with the sign, turning it to Closed when he knew we were alone. I glanced through the small pane of glass in the door.

At first I didn’t realise it was James. The man behind the desk looked smaller, shrunken, his hair completely grey. He was hunched over, engrossed in paperwork.

When I realised it was him I wondered if he would recognise me. My hair was short but softer round the edges with subtle highlights.

The bell tinkled. It was the same rickety bell. There was still a slight glitch as the door grated against the wooden floor. Oliver had promised to plane the door, make it glide.

James looked up. ‘Good morning. Can I help you?’

I was shocked by his appearance. Money and breeding hadn’t afforded him eternal youth. It wasn’t until I unfolded my hood that he gasped.

‘Rebecca? Oh my god. Is that you?’ He gripped the top of his desk to steady himself. He looked shaken. I couldn’t connect the broken figure in front of me with the James I remembered.Before I answered he got up, walked round and kissed me. His hands shook.