‘Me.’

‘Who suggested buying a place together?’

‘I know what you must think of me.’

‘Was it just a challenge?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Was it a game you wanted to complete? You met a woman who had her life together, and you wanted to see if you could pull it apart? You wanted to know that you could get her to fall in love with you, say all the things you wanted her to say, do all the things you wanted her to do, then the game was finished and you could turn it off?’

‘Of course that’s not what I did. I just changed my mind – people are allowed to change their minds about things.’

‘You know, every time you “change your mind” in such an extreme way, it takes something from a woman. It’s an act of theft. It’s not just a theft of her trust, it’s a theft of her time. You’ve taken things from her, so you could have a fun few months. Can you not see how selfish that is?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Do you have any idea how hard she has to work to trust someone? And it’s going to be even harder for her to do that now. It’s yet more labour women have to put into a relationship that, on the whole, men don’t really have to think about.’

‘Okay,’ he tried to reason, ‘I’ve handled this very badly.’

‘You said you wanted to marry her. Do you know how mental that is, Jethro? How wildly inappropriate it is to say that so early on in a relationship even if you meant it, let alone if you didn’t.’

‘I meant it at the time.’

‘You do know how marriage and children work, don’t you? You know you have to, like, go out with someone first to get to that bit.’

‘I know. I’m very in love with her. I’m just not ready to commit properly yet.’

‘You’re thirty-six.’

‘Age doesn’t matter.’

‘And love doesn’t work like that, anyway. I can’t believe I’m having to explain this to a man in his late thirties.’

‘Mid-thirties.’

‘You have to take your chance, it’s not like you fall in love with someone every week. How arrogant are you, that you think you’re going to feel like this again about someone whenever you decide you’re ready on your terms?’

‘It’s not about her, it’s about timing.’

‘So when do you think you’ll suddenly be ready to commit?’

He shrugged and made baffled noises as he searched his thoughts. ‘I don’t know. I can’t say. Four years maybe? Five years? I don’t know.’

‘Lola will be nearly forty then. Do you expect her to wait to start a proper relationship with you when she’s forty?’ I imagined him as a single forty-something, silvery strands streaked through his red hair, gallant crinkles around his eyes, a flat twice the size filled with twice as much detritus of an insecure man with too much money. He wouldn’t seem desperate or sad. Men like Jethro got to journey through life and be perceived as lion-hearted, intrepid explorers.

Then I realized – he would be able to decide when he wanted to fall in love and have a family and it would happen. There would always be a woman who wanted to love him. He didn’t have to take this chance at all – he could wait for another chance. Then another one. The female population was just an endless source of chances and he could wait as long as he wanted. There was so little risk involved when it came to who and how he loved. Nothing meant anything to him.

‘You won’t marry a woman your age,’ I said, understanding it as I said it aloud. ‘You’ll marry a woman ten years younger than you. That’s how this will work. You’re right, age doesn’t matter. To you.’ He stared at me, his mouth tight and defiant, and said nothing. ‘Has Lola left anything here?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Don’t date until you’ve sorted your shit out.’ I stood up and went to the door. ‘And don’t call Lola again.’

I knew he would date again. Probably within weeks, just like Max had done. I imagined all the women Jethro and Max would date, while they were ‘confused’ and ‘not ready’, standing next to each other in a long factory line. Each of them would give these men something – a story, a weekend away, their attention, their advice, their time, a sexual adventure, an actual adventure – then they’d be forced to pass him along to the next relationship. These men would emerge at some point, full of all the love and care and confidence that had been bestowed upon them over the years, and they might commit to someone. Then, most certainly, another one. Then another one when that one got boring. Their greed would not be satisfied by one woman, by one life. They’d get to lead a great many lives. Life after life after life after life.

Because these men wanted to want something rather than have something. Max wanted to be tortured, he wanted to yearn and chase and dream. He wanted to exist in a liminal state, like everything was just about to begin. He liked contemplating what our relationship might be like, without investing any time or commitment in our relationship. Jethro liked talking about the home he would buy with Lola, but he didn’t want to turn up to the viewing. They were like teenage boys in their rooms, coming up with lyrics to write in their notebooks. They weren’t ready to be adults, to make any choices, let alone promises. They preferred a relationship to be virtual and speculative, because when it was virtual and speculative, it could be perfect. Their girlfriend didn’t have to be human. They didn’t have to think about plans or practicalities, they weren’t burdened with the concern of another person’s happiness. And they could be heroes. They could be gods.

It was pathetic.

‘Who are all these fucking men?’ Lola slurred, opening a dusty bottle of Tia Maria. It was past midnight and we’d run out of wine – we’d resorted to liqueurs in the back of the cupboards in my flat. ‘How do they get to have sex with us? Do they know how lucky they are that they got to have sex with us? They should have had to cut out vouchers from a magazine for a year – A YEAR – and send them off to a PO box number before they were even CONSIDERED as people who might be lucky enough to have sex with us.’ She poured the Tia Maria into our wine glasses with a wobbly hand.

‘PO box number? Mate,’ I said, ‘you’re showing your age, there.’

‘I want to show my age. I’m thirty-fucking-three. My age is an accumulation, it’s an asset. It’s a furnishing. It isn’t a loss. I’m a CATCH. Why don’t they understand I’m a catch?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘If I were a boy, everyone would want to be with me. I have a great career, lovely teeth,’ she said, baring her gums at me. ‘I have good cardiovascular health. I own a whole set of suitcases I saved up for, with all the separate compartments for underwear and toiletries. One of them even has a frigging USB port built into it to charge your phone. That’s an impressive person. Why doesn’t everyone want to be with me?’

I opened our second pack of cigarettes and withdrew one. ‘Beats me.’

‘We have to download Linx again.’

‘No,’ I said, lighting my fag. ‘No way. I’m done with dating.’

‘You can’t be done with dating if you want a family.’

‘I was so much happier before this year. I don’t want to think about it or look for it any more. If it happens, it happens.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to love someone, Nina.’

‘I know that.’

‘It’s not a weakness, to want that for yourself,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to give up hope.’

‘I think that might have already happened.’ We both leant out of the window, exhaling smoke into the sky. The recently planted tree waved its nascent branches at us in the breeze.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘You should give your hope to me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s like what Joe said in his groom’s speech: love is being the guardian of another person’s solitude. Maybe friendship is being the guardian of another person’s hope. Leave it with me and I’ll look after it for a while, if it feels too heavy for now.’

‘I can’t do that, you’re already carrying yours.’

‘Oh, I’ve been carrying mine for a decade,’ she said. ‘I won’t notice if I chuck a bit more in.’

I tucked her hair tightly behind her ear. ‘I couldn’t be less of an advocate for relationships right now. But, for what it’s worth – I know there is a love ahead of you, Lola. Grander than either of us can imagine. He might not be a celebrity magician. He might not be anything like the sort of man we thought he would be. But he’s on his way.’

‘I know that, Nina,’ she said. ‘I’ve always known that.’

‘You really have, haven’t you?’

‘So I can know it for you too. And then you don’t have to think about it any more. You just keep writing your books and looking after your dad. I’ll keep your hope safe for you until you’re ready for me to hand it back.’

Angelo approached the front door and saw us leaning out of my window.

‘Hello!’ he shouted up to me.

‘Hello!’ I said. ‘How are the hams?’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I hang them on hooks on the washing line, but I have a problem with flies.’

‘You wanted the bicycle,’ I said.