He kept his eyes on mine, perhaps searching to see whether there was some punch-line coming, then released my hand reluctantly. ‘Ah. Well, that’s a pity.’ He leant back in his chair, and took a sip of his drink. ‘So how come he isn’t here?’

‘Because he’s in England.’

‘And he’s coming over?’

‘No.’

He pulled a face, the kind of face people make when they think you’re doing something stupid but don’t want to say so out loud. He shrugged. ‘Then we can be friends. You know everyone dates here, right? Doesn’t have to be a thing. I’ll be your incredibly handsome male walker.’

‘Do you mean dating as in “having sex with”?’

‘Woah. You English girls don’t mince your words.’

‘I just don’t want to lead you down the garden path.’

‘You’re telling me this isn’t going to be a friends-with-benefits thing. Okay, Louisa Clark. I get it.’

I tried not to smile. And failed.

‘You’re very cute,’ he said. ‘And you’re funny. And direct. And not like any girl I’ve ever met.’

‘And you’re very charming.’

‘That’s because I’m a little bit enraptured.’

‘And I’m a little bit drunk.’

‘Oh, now I’m wounded. Really wounded.’ He clutched at his heart.

It was at this point that I turned my head and saw Nathan watching. He gave a faint lift of his eyebrow, then tapped his wrist. It was enough to bring me back to earth. ‘You know – I really have to go. Early start.’

‘I’ve gone too far. I’ve frightened you off.’

‘Oh, I’m not that easily frightened. But I do have a tricky day at work tomorrow. And my morning run doesn’t work so well on several pints of beer and a tequila chaser.’

‘Will you call me? For a platonic beer? So I can moon at you a little?’

‘I have to warn you, “mooning” means something quite different in England.’ I told him and he exploded with laughter.

‘Well, I promise not to do that. Unless, of course, you want me to.’

‘That’s quite the offer.’

‘I mean it. Call me.’

I walked out, feeling his eyes on my back the whole way. As Nathan hailed a yellow taxi, I turned as the door was closing. I could only just make him out through a tiny gap as it swung shut, but it was enough to see he was still watching me. And smiling.

I called Sam. ‘Hey,’ I said, when he picked up.

‘Lou? Why am I even asking? Who else would ring me at four forty-five in the morning?’

‘So what are you doing?’ I lay back on my bed, and let my shoes drop from my feet onto the carpeted floor.

‘Just back off a shift. Reading. How are you? You sound cheerful.’

‘Been to a bar. Tough day. But I feel a lot better now. And I just wanted to hear your voice. Because I miss you. And you’re my boyfriend.’

‘And you’re drunk.’ He laughed.

‘I might be. A little. Did you say you were reading?’

‘Yup. A novel.’

‘Really? I thought you didn’t read fiction.’

‘Oh, Katie got it for me. Insisted I’d enjoy it. I can’t face the endless inquisitions if I keep not reading it.’

‘She’s buying you books?’ I pushed myself upright, my good mood suddenly dissipating.

‘Why? What does buying me a book mean?’ He sounded half amused.

‘It means she fancies you.’

‘It does not.’

‘It totally does.’ Alcohol had loosened my inhibitions. I felt the words coming before I could stop them. ‘If women try to make you read something it’s because they fancy you. They want to be in your head. They want to make you think of stuff.’

I heard him chuckle. ‘And what if it’s a motorcycle repair manual?’

‘Still counts. Because then she’d be trying to show you what a cool, sexy, motorbike-loving kind of chick she is.’

‘Well, this isn’t about motorbikes. It’s some French thing.’

‘French? This is bad. What’s the title?’

‘Madame de.’

‘Madame de what?’

‘Just Madame de. It’s about a general and some earrings and …’

‘And what?’

‘He has an affair.’

‘She’s making you read books about French people who have affairs? Oh, my God. She totally fancies you.’

‘You’re wrong, Lou.’

‘I know when someone fancies someone, Sam.’

‘Really.’ He had begun to sound tired.

‘So, a man made a pass at me tonight. I knew he fancied me. So I told him straight off I was with someone. I headed it off.’

‘Oh, you did? Who was that, then?’

‘His name is Josh.’

‘Josh. Would that be the same Josh who called you when I was leaving?’

Even through my slightly drunken fug I had begun to realize this conversation was a bad idea. ‘Yes.’

‘And you just happened to bump into him in a bar.’

‘I did! I was there with Nathan. And I literally ran into him outside the Ladies.’

‘So what did he say?’ His voice now held a faint edge.

‘He … he said it was a pity.’

‘And is it?’

‘What?’

‘A pity?’

There was a short silence. I felt suddenly, horribly sober. ‘I’m just telling you what he said. I’m with you, Sam. I’m literally just using this as an example of how I could tell that someone fancied me and how I headed it off before he could get the wrong idea. Which is a concept you seem to be unwilling to grasp.’

‘No. Seems to me you’re calling me up in the middle of the night to have a go at me about my work partner who has lent me a book, but you’re fine with you going out and having drunk conversations with this Josh about relationships. Jesus. You wouldn’t even admit we were in a relationship until I pushed you into it. And now you’ll happily talk about intimate stuff to some guy you just met in a bar. If you really just met him in a bar.’

‘It just took me time, Sam! I thought you were playing around!’

‘It took you time because you were still in love with the memory of another guy. A dead guy. And you’re now in New York because, well, he wanted you to go there. So I have no idea why you’re being weird and jealous about Katie. You never minded how much time I spent with Donna.’

‘Because Donna didn’t fancy you.’

‘You’ve never even met Katie! How could you possibly know whether she fancies me or not?’

‘I’ve seen the pictures!’

‘What pictures?’ he exploded.

I was an idiot. I closed my eyes. ‘On her Facebook page. She has pictures. Of you and her.’ I swallowed. ‘A picture.’

There was a long silence. The kind of silence that says, Are you serious? The kind of ominous silence that comes while somebody quietly adjusts his view of who you are. When Sam spoke again his voice was low and controlled. ‘This is a ridiculous discussion and I’ve got to get some sleep.’

‘Sam, I –’

‘Go to sleep, Lou. We’ll speak later.’ He rang off.

12

I barely slept, all the things I wished I had and hadn’t said whirring around my head in an endless carousel, and woke groggily to the sound of knocking. I stumbled out of bed, and opened my door to find Mrs De Witt standing there in her dressing-gown. She looked tiny and frail without her make-up and set hair, and her face was twisted with anxiety.