‘That’s really kind. But, Josh, it would complicate things. I think I might have to go home, for now at least. Just till another position comes up.’

Josh stared at his plate. ‘Timing sucks, huh?’

‘Yup.’

‘I was looking forward to more of those dances.’

I pulled a face. ‘Oh, God. The dance thing. I … Do I … want to ask you what happened the other night?’

‘You really don’t remember?’

‘Only the Times Square bits. Maybe getting into a taxi.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oho! Oh, Louisa Clark. It’s pretty tempting to start teasing you here, but nothing happened. Like that, anyway. Unless licking my neck is really your thing.’

‘But I wasn’t wearing my clothes when I woke up.’

‘That’s because you insisted on removing them during your dance. You announced, once we got to my building, that you would like to express your last few days through the medium of freeform dance, and while I followed on behind, you shed items of clothing from the lobby to the living room.’

‘I took my own clothes off?’

‘And very charmingly too. There were … flourishes.’

I had a sudden image of myself twirling, a coy leg thrust out from behind a curtain, the feel of cool window glass on my backside. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My cheeks a furious red, I covered my face with my hands.

‘I have to say, as a drunk you make a highly entertaining one.’

‘And … when we got into your bedroom?’

‘Oh, by that stage you were down to your underwear. And then you sang a crazy song – something about a monkey, or a molahonkey or something? Then you fell asleep very abruptly in a little heap on the floor. So I put a T-shirt on you and put you in my bed. And I slept on the sofa-bed.’

‘I’m so sorry. And thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’ He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. ‘Most of my dates are not half that entertaining.’

I dipped my head over my mug. ‘You know, these last few days I’ve felt like I’m permanently about two degrees from either laughing or crying and right now I slightly want to do both.’

‘Are you staying at Nathan’s tonight?’

‘I think so.’

‘Okay. Well, don’t do anything hasty. Let me put a few calls in before you book that ticket. See if there are any openings anywhere.’

‘You really think there might be?’ He was always so confident. It was one of the things that most reminded me of Will.

‘There’s always something. I’ll call you later.’

And then he kissed me. He did it so casually that I almost didn’t register what he was doing. He leant forward and kissed me on the lips, like it was something he’d done a million times before, like it was the natural end to all our lunch dates. And then, before I had time to be startled, he let go of my fingers and wound his scarf around his neck. ‘Okay. I gotta go. Couple of big meetings this afternoon. Keep your chin up.’ He smiled, his high-wattage perfect smile, and headed back to his office, leaving me on my high plastic stool, my mouth hanging open.

I didn’t tell Nathan what had happened. I checked in with him by text that it was okay to come home, and he told me the Gopniks were headed out again at seven so I should probably leave it till a quarter past. I walked in the cold and sat in the diner and finally returned home to find Ilaria had left me some soup in a Thermos and two of the soft scones they called biscuits. Nathan was out on a date that evening and gone in the morning when I woke. He left me a note to say he hoped I was okay and reassured me that it was fine for me to stay. I only snored a little bit, apparently.

I had spent months wishing I had more free time. Now that I had it, I found the city was not a friendly place without money to burn. I left the building when it was safe to do so and walked the streets until my toes grew too cold, then had a cup of tea in a Starbucks, stretching that out for a couple of hours and using the free WiFi to search for jobs. There wasn’t much for someone with no references, unless I was experienced in the food industry.

I began to layer up, now that my life did not involve mere minutes spent in the open air between heated lobbies and warm limousines. I wore a blue fisherman’s jumper, my workman’s dungarees, heavy boots and a pair of tights and socks underneath. Not elegant, but that was no longer my priority.

At lunchtime I headed for a fast-food joint where the burgers were cheap and nobody noticed a solitary diner eking out a bun for another hour or two. Department stores were a depressing no-no, as I no longer felt able to spend money, although there were good Ladies and WiFi. Twice I headed down to the Vintage Clothes Emporium, where the girls commiserated with me but exchanged the slightly tense looks of those who suspect they are going to be asked a favour. ‘If you hear of any jobs going – especially like yours – can you let me know?’ I said, when I could no longer browse the rails.

‘Sweetheart, we barely make rent or we’d have you here like a shot.’ Lydia blew a sympathetic smoke ring at the ceiling and looked to her sister, who batted it away.

‘You’ll make the clothes stink. Look, we’ll ask around,’ Angelica said. She said it in a way that made me think I was not the first person who had asked.

I trudged out of the shop feeling despondent. I didn’t know what to do with myself. There was nowhere quiet where I could just sit for a while, nowhere that offered space where I could work out what to do next. If you didn’t have money in New York, you were a refugee, unwelcome anywhere for too long. Perhaps, I mused, it was time to admit defeat and buy that plane ticket.

And then it hit me.

I took the subway up to Washington Heights and got off a short walk from the library. It felt, for the first time in days, like I was somewhere familiar, somewhere that welcomed me. This would be my refuge, my springboard to a new future. I headed up the stone steps. On the first floor I found an unoccupied computer terminal. I sat down heavily, took a breath and, for the first time since the Gopnik debacle, I closed my eyes and just let my thoughts settle.

I felt some long-held tension ease away from my shoulders and allowed myself to float on the low murmur of people around me, a world away from the chaos and bustle of outside. I don’t know if it was just the joy of being surrounded by books, and quiet, but I felt like an equal here, inconspicuous, a brain, a keyboard, just another person searching for information.

And there, for the first time, I found myself asking what the hell had just happened anyway. Agnes had betrayed me. My months with the Gopniks suddenly felt like a fever dream, time out of time, a strange, compacted blur of limousines and gilded interiors, a world onto which a curtain had been briefly drawn back, then abruptly closed again.

This, in contrast, was real. This, I told myself, was where I could come each day until I had worked out my strategy. Here I would find the steps to forge a new route upwards.

Knowledge is power, Clark.

‘Ma’am.’

I opened my eyes to find a security guard in front of me. He stooped so that he was looking directly into my face. ‘You can’t sleep in here.’

‘What?’

‘You can’t sleep in here.’

‘I wasn’t sleeping,’ I said indignantly. ‘I was thinking.’

‘Maybe think with your eyes open then, huh? Or you got to leave.’ He turned away, murmuring something into a walkie-talkie. It took me a moment to register what he had really been saying to me. Two people at a nearby table looked up at me and then away. My face flushed. I saw the awkward glances of other library users around me. I looked down at my clothes, at my denim dungarees with the fleece-lined workman’s boots and my woollen hat. Not quite Bergdorf Goodman but hardly Vagrant City.