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look at me. He stared ahead into his future as if he’d forgotten me the minute the car lurched forward.
    It wasn’t just his leaving I couldn’t bear, it was the terrible sense that if only I’d behaved differently, not displayed my desperation, if only I’d got it right, this
would not be happening.
    When at last I hear footsteps on the bare floorboards of the staircase, I feel a warm tide of relief and gratitude sweep through me. Jez is coming back of his own accord. I
move into the room. Notice the key on the inside of the door. Slip it into my pocket.
    I start to tidy a little, check that there’s enough soap in the bathroom, a clean towel, loo roll. There are some Bic disposable razors left here years ago by a guest, and I place them on
the shelf so he’ll know he’s welcome to use them. He comes into the room, sits on the bed and I can barely stop myself from putting my arms around him, thanking him for not leaving
me.
    ‘It’s not there,’ he says. ‘It’s weird, I’m sure I had it yesterday. I hope it hasn’t been nicked.’
    ‘Do you want to use mine?’
    ‘I haven’t got Alicia’s number, it was on my phone,’ he says, as I knew he would. ‘But I could phone my mum if you don’t mind.’
    ‘Who might have Alicia’s number?’
    ‘I suppose Barney might.’
    ‘Well, look. I’ll give Helen a ring. She can get in touch with everyone. Your mother, too.’
    ‘Cool,’ he says. He smiles at me and his teeth flash white and his eyes are the sweet brown of chestnuts.
    ‘Like I said last night, you can try out this equipment if you feel like it. There’s a recording thing there, and three guitars to play. Have a go on the twelve-string
one.’
    ‘A twelve-string. I’ve just started playing one!’
    ‘There’s an amp you can use with the electric guitar.’
    I wave my hand in an arc to indicate the range of wonderful musical equipment at his disposal. Greg spent years stocking the music room, nurturing his failed ambition to become a guitarist
whilst climbing higher and higher up the medical profession until he had plenty of money for the latest musical gadget but no time to play. He even soundproofed the room, at my request. Jez, as a
young, talented guitarist, could not have asked for a better place to stay.
    ‘And, if you want, I could phone a couple of the contacts I mentioned. See if they can get you some kind of a recording deal.’
    ‘Blimey. Wait till Barney and Theo hear about this!’
    I smile. Jez needs me, just as Seb did, though he never admitted it.
    ‘When d’you think they’ll be around?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘These contacts of yours. What are they? Managers?’
    ‘The first one I have in mind is an opera singer. But he knows everyone in showbiz. Including a few band managers. Leave it with me.’
    ‘Sick.’ He grins. ‘Where’s your hubby by the way?’
    ‘Greg? He’s away at the moment. Work.’
    ‘He must be a good musician.’
    ‘Ah well. That’s another story. He doesn’t get to play much these days.’
    ‘So no one uses this stuff? It’s just sitting here?’
    ‘There’s Kit, too, of course. But she’s at uni now.’
    ‘Kit, yeah. She was in Theo’s year before we moved to Paris.’
    ‘That’s right.’
    There’s a moment’s silence in which he gets up, moves over to the amp, fiddles with one of the knobs. Then he turns.
    ‘So, you’re here all by yourself?’
    I hesitate before replying.
    ‘Just at the moment. I don’t like going away from here. Though Greg often asks me to accompany him.’
    ‘Blimey,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t want to leave this place either. It’s bloody amazing, this room.’ He goes over to the windows. ‘You can see everything
from here. Better than the London Eye! Canary Wharf, Docklands. The O2. It’s so cool.’
    He says it as if I might never have looked myself. As if I need him to point these things out for me. I find this endearing. I stack the breakfast things on the tray. He’s flicking through