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‘Why not?’

Freddy shrugs.

‘Oh, no, no no.’ I shake my head. ‘You’re not getting away with that one. Why wouldn’t a good-looking and hugely arrogant man like you want children to carry on your genetic line? I’d have thought you’d want dozens of mini Freddy Starks in the world.’

‘I’m the same as you.’ Freddy eyes his water glass. ‘I never got over my first love.’

‘Really.’ I put my elbows on the table, fascinated. ‘You loved someone apart from yourself?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Who was she?’

‘My mother.’

‘Oh.’ I frown. ‘Well, all of us love our mothers.’

‘Yes,’ says Freddy. ‘So if they walk out on you, it can mess you up.’

‘My dad walked out on me, and I’m not messed up.’

Freddy makes a sound that could be a laugh. ‘Yes, you are.’

‘Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little bit messed up. So, what’s your relationship like with your mother now?’

‘Non-existent.’ Freddy sips at his water. ‘Okay, fine. If you want to amateur psychologise me –’

‘Psychologise isn’t a word. And yes, that’s exactly what I want to do. Why did your mother walk out?’

‘Because my dad wasn’t earning enough for her liking. She met someone else and we never saw her again. And yes, it has given me trust issues. And relationship issues. Happy, little Miss Amateur Psychologist?’

‘That’sMsAmateur Psychologist. And no. Of course I’m not happy that your mother abandoned you. That’s awful.’

‘Yeah. Well, we all have our issues. Your mum died, didn’t she?’

‘Yes. Do you have brothers? Sisters?’

‘A half-brother. On my mother’s side. I never see him.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay. His name is Tigra. I don’t think we’d get along. Since we’re opening up, why don’t you tell me how you got those scars on your hand?’

I glance down at the white, bubble-shaped marks on my fingers. As I do, pain shoots down my arm and I grimace, shaking my champagne glass in the process and spilling half of it.

‘Kat?’

‘It’s fine.’ I say the words through gritted teeth, forcing my hand steady around the champagne glass. ‘I just … oh shit. Maybe I should head home before I lose the use of my legs entirely.’ I struggle to my feet, grappling with my cane. ‘Freddy, we should resume this conversation another time. I do want to know more about all this family stuff. Honestly. Maybe I can help you unpick your issues and find a partner too. Just like you’re helping me.’

‘I’m a tricky customer. I have far higher standards than you. I want perfection.’

‘Which doesn’t exist in people.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’ll talk to you again, okay? Right now, I need to get to the train station. Bugger. I hate walking quickly on grass with a cane.’

‘You’re not taking the train.’ Freddy watches my gently trembling leg. ‘The train station is a kilometre away and you can barely walk.’