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‘Talk me through it,’ I said, trying to be kind.

Mind you, I wasn’t going to let him off lightly after the grilling he’d given me.

He coughed. Picking up his reusable coffee mug, he drank almost manically from it, wincing.

‘Ugh. Cold coffee,’ he said, his face contorting in disgust.

I laughed. ‘Go on, then. I’m waiting,’ I insisted, nodding my head towards his board.

He put his cup down and sat bolt upright, as though he was in a really uncomfortable job interview.

‘There’s not much to say, as you can see. That’s me, in the middle. My books. Dogs, because I really want a dog. A Peloton, because in five years’ time I want to be the sort of person who can justify buying a Peloton because they will use said Peloton and not leave it gathering dust in the corner. There’s a clapperboard because I’d like to write a film one day, although I’ve no idea where to start. Um, that’s it, I think?’

I took it all in. Not that it took long.

‘It’s not exactly fun-filled,’ I said. ‘Where’s the mess? The joy? Where’s the colour?’

‘I have colour,’ he said, pointing at the one photo that wasn’t in black and white. ‘Also, I hate mess, so why would I make a messy board?’

I thought back. It was true, his room in the house he’d shared with his writer friend, Jake, and a girl who I seemedto remember did something in the city, had always been very tidy. His draft chapters were tidy. Even the notes he’d written in the margins for me had been neat and precise and clear.

‘But where’s everyone else?’ I asked, staring at it, wondering if I’d missed something, if perhaps he’d added a symbol to hint at family and friends and lovers (not that I wanted to think about that, particularly).

He crossed his arms defensively. ‘This is my vision board. Why would I fill it with pictures of other people?’

I squinted at him. ‘But this is supposed to depict how you want your future to look. Don’t you want other people in it? You know, friends around you? Family? Marriage? Kids?’

He baulked. ‘I don’t know. Not really.’

Admittedly, I hadn’t been able to imagine kids and marriage, either. I hoped it would happen at some point, but I’d never allowed the thought to take over because it mightnothappen, and I’d managed to reassure myself that if it didn’t I’d be fine because I had all these other people to care about and spend time with and that was enough. I had a niece and a nephew. I could get a cat. That would be more than enough.

‘It feels a bit sad that you haven’t put anyone else on your board,’ I continued, wondering if I was being too pushy. But wasn’t that the point of this exercise, to make us think hard about our choices, and about what we might be missing out on because of the way our lives were currently set up?

‘Well, I think it feels sad that you worry more about everyone else than you do about yourself,’ he said defiantly.

OK, then.

‘Look, I’m sorry if––’

‘Why do you care so much about other people, anyway?’ he asked. He couldn’t look less tense if he tried and he’dcompletely missed the point of the exercise – surely it was supposed to be a bit of fun!

‘Whydon’tyou care?’ I countered, up for the challenge.

As we sat looking at each other, daring each other to say something that would turn this into a full-blown row, which was something we’d never done and maybe, in hindsight, what we’d needed, Melissa tinkled her bell. I let out a little sigh of relief. We were different, that was all, this exercise had proved it. In fact, our differences were probably what made our writing collaboration possible – if we had the same ideas, the same perspective on life, we might as well write the book by ourselves.

We got up, retrieving our boards, our cups, my sunglasses. As Theo walked off ahead, I called after him.

‘By the way, are you OK to play tennis with Claire and Rob tomorrow morning at ten? We’ll meet in the foyer?’

This was probably the worst timing ever because he probably hated me more than ever right at this moment, but I had to ask because it was all arranged and if he stormed off to his room, I might not see him again until breakfast.

He threw me a look over his shoulder that indicated that he probably couldn’t think of a single thing worse than spending additional time with me. I held my nerve. He was going to have to come, because I’d promised Claire.

‘It’s all arranged,’ I said, smiling as sweetly at him as was possible under the circumstances. ‘Hope you don’t mind?’

He shook his head, turned away and carried on walking over to Melissa and the others. Good. That wasn’t a no, was it?

Chapter Eleven