We sat in silence for a few moments. I found myself staring at his hands – the strong, battered knuckles, the way they looked so hard, so powerful, but were capable of such tenderness. I stared determinedly at the mark on the cloth.

‘You know, Lou, I thought I’d be fine by myself. I’ve been on my own a long time, after all. But you cracked something open in me.’

‘Oh, so it’s my fault.’

‘I’m not saying that!’ he burst out. ‘I’m trying to explain. I’m saying – I’m saying I’m no longer as good at being on my own as I thought I was. After my sister died I didn’t want to feel anything for anyone again, okay? I had room to care for Jake, but nobody else. I had my job and my half-built house, and my chickens, and that was fine. I was just … getting on with it all. And then you came along and fell off that bloody building, and literally the first time you held onto my hand I felt something give in me. And suddenly I had someone I looked forward to talking to. Someone who understood how I felt. Really, really understood. I could drive past your flat and know that at the end of a crap day I was going to be able to call up to you or pop in later and feel better. And, yes, I know we had some issues, but it just felt – deep down – like there was something right in there, you know?’

His head was bowed over his tea, his jaw clenched.

‘And then just as we were close – closer than I’ve ever felt to another living soul – you were … you were just gone. And I felt like – like someone had given me this gift, this key to everything, with one hand, then snatched it away with the other.’

‘Then why did you let me go?’

His voice exploded into the room. ‘Because – because I’m not that man, Lou! I’m not the man who’s going to insist that you stay. I’m not the man who’s going to stop you having the adventures and growing and doing all the stuff that you’re doing out there. I’m not that guy!’

‘No – you’re the guy who hooks up with someone else as soon as I’ve gone! Someone in the same zip code!’

‘It’s a postcode! You’re in England, for Christ’s sake!’

‘Yup, and you have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t.’

Sam turned away from me, clearly struggling to contain himself. Beyond the kitchen doors, although the television was still on, I was dimly aware of silence in the front room.

After a few minutes I said quietly. ‘I can’t do this, Sam.’

‘You can’t do what?’

‘I can’t be worrying about Katie Ingram and her attempts to seduce you – because whatever happened that night I could see what she wanted, even if I don’t know what you wanted. It’s making me crazy and it’s making me sad, and worse …’ I swallowed hard ‘… it’s making me hate you. And I can’t imagine how in three short months I’ve got to that point.’

‘Louisa –’

There was a discreet knock at the door. My mother’s face appeared. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you both but would you mind very much if I quickly made some tea? Granddad’s gasping.’

‘Sure.’ I kept my face turned away.

She bustled in and filled the kettle, her back to us. ‘They’re watching some film about aliens. Not very Christmassy. I remember when Christmas Day was all Wizard of Oz or The Sound of Music or something that everyone could watch together. Now they’re watching all this whiz-bam-shooting nonsense and Granddad and I can’t understand a word anyone’s saying.’

My mother rattled on, plainly mortified at having to be there, tapping the work surface with her fingers as she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘You know we haven’t even watched the Queen’s Speech? Daddy put it on the old recording box thing. But it’s not the same if you watch it afterwards, is it? I like to watch it when everyone else is watching it. The poor old woman, wedged in all those video boxes until everyone’s finished the aliens and the cartoons. You’d think after sixty-odd years of service – how long has she been on that throne? – the least we could do is watch her do her thing when she does it. Mind you, Daddy tells me I’m being ridiculous as she probably recorded it weeks ago. Sam, will you have some cake?’

‘Not for me, thanks, Josie.’

‘Lou?’

‘No. Thanks, Mum.’

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ She smiled awkwardly, loaded a fruitcake the size of a tractor wheel onto the tray and hurried out. Sam got up and closed the door behind her.

We sat in silence, listening to the kitchen clock ticking, the air leaden. I felt crushed under the weight of the things unsaid between us.

Sam took a long swig of his tea. I wanted him to leave. I thought I might die if he did.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said finally. ‘About the other night. I never wanted to … Well, it was badly judged.’

I shook my head. I couldn’t speak any more.

‘I didn’t sleep with her. If you won’t hear anything else, I do need you to hear that.’

‘You said –’

He looked up.

‘You said … nobody would ever hurt me again. You said that. When you came to New York.’ My voice emerged from somewhere in my chest. ‘I never thought for a moment you would be the one to do it.’

‘Louisa –’

‘I think I’d like you to go now.’

He stood heavily and hesitated, both hands on the table in front of him. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t see the face I loved about to disappear from my life forever. He straightened up, let out an audible breath and turned away from me.

He pulled a package from his inside pocket and placed it on the table. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said. And then he walked to the door.

I followed him back down the corridor, eleven long steps, and then we were on the front porch. I couldn’t look at him or I would be lost. I would plead with him to stay, promise to give up my job, beg him to change his job, not to see Katie Ingram again. I would become pathetic, the kind of woman I pitied. The kind of woman he had never wanted.

I stood, my shoulders rigid, and I refused to look any further than his stupid, oversized feet. A car pulled up. A door slammed somewhere down the street. Birds sang. And I stood, locked in my own private misery in a moment that stubbornly refused to end.

And then, abruptly, he stepped forward and his arms closed around me. He pulled me to him, and in that embrace I felt everything that we had meant to each other, the love and the pain and the bloody impossibility of it all. And my face, unseen by him, crumpled.

I don’t know how long we stood there. Probably only seconds. But time briefly stopped, stretched, disappeared. It was just him and me and this awful dead feeling creeping from my head to my feet, as if I were turning to stone.

‘Don’t. Don’t touch me,’ I said, when I couldn’t bear it any more. My voice was choked and unlike itself, and I pushed him back, away from me.

‘Lou –’

Except it wasn’t his voice. It was my sister’s.

‘Lou, could you just – sorry – get out of the way, please? I need to get past.’

I blinked, and turned my head. My sister, her hands raised, was trying to edge past us from the narrow doorway to the path. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just need to …’