I’m in the park and there’s music playing. I can see a bandstand in the distance. That’s never been there before. I look at the bench and Dan’s not there, so I head for the bandstand. I’m rolling my shoulders and swinging my hips, dancing to the music as I walk. The sun’s shining and the lawn is dotted with blue and white striped deckchairs. I look for Dan in case he’s sitting in one of them instead, but there’s no sign of him. As I get closer to the bandstand, I see Henry heading towards me. He’s dance-walking too. I laugh and start running to him.

And then I wake up.

---

Henry was in my Dan Dream. What was Henry doing in my Dan Dream? I’m sure it’s just because I spent so much time with him yesterday and so he was on my mind. But still. It’s odd how much the dream is changing. It’s unsettling.

I check my phone and find a text from Dan from last night:

Free for dinner tonight?

My stomach flutters and I smile at my screen. I’ll reply later, in case he’s still asleep. I stretch my toes to the end of the bad, feeling my back click satisfyingly. I swing my legs to one side and out of the bed, then let my head hang down. I could really just lie back down and go straight back to sleep. I check the clock to see if I’ve got time for even a catnap, but no. I need to get up and go to work. Balls.

I expect Henry to be in the kitchen, but it’s empty, so I make myself a tea and take it up to the lounge – I might manage a five minute snooze in front of BBC Breakfast while my tea cools. I’m almost at the sofa when I notice someone’s beaten me to it. There’s a long shape under a duvet, man feet sticking out of the end.

‘Henry?’

There’s a long low groaning sound and I take a step back. Not Henry. Adam’s eyes appear over the other end of the duvet, squinting and blinking in my general direction.

‘Adam? You OK?’

He yawns widely and loudly. ‘Sorry. Celine kicked me out.’

‘Right,’ I say. I’m not sure whether to sit on one of the other chairs or take my tea downstairs. ‘Sorry for waking you. I thought you were Henry.’

‘S’all right.’ He pushes himself to sitting, still with his eyes mostly closed, and as he does, the duvet falls down to his waist. He’s shirtless.

The thing about Adam is… he’s hot. Like, stupid hot. Stupid and hot, Freya would say. I would never say that. But he is definitely hot. He runs most mornings and goes to the gym every day after work. Last year he did a triathlon and we all went along to cheer him on and the next day my legs were aching and all I’d done was stand there. So anyway, his chest is like a statue. Or Zac Efron. Pecs and a six pack and everything. And these incredibly defined shoulders. Delts? Is that delts? I think I’ve heard him talk about his delts before. Shit. I’m staring. Luckily he’s still got his eyes closed.

He drops back down on the sofa, banging his head lightly on the arm.

‘Bea, can I ask you a question?’

‘Um. Yeah?’ I take a gulp of my tea. Too hot.

‘What do you think about me and Celine? As a couple?’

‘Oh god,’ I say, before I can stop myself. ‘God. Sorry.’ I walk around the sofa and sit on the armchair. ‘Um. I’m really not the right person to ask. I don’t know much about relationships.’

Adam sits up again and rubs both hands over his face. I stare at the hair around his nipples and then down into my mug.

‘That’s good, I think,’ he says. ‘You won’t be bringing your own shit to it.’

No. I won’t. I don’t really have any shit to bring. I glance up. He’s looking over at me expectantly.

‘Um,’ I say again. I have no idea whether he knows that I know Celine is pregnant. Actually I don’t even know if he knows she’s pregnant. ‘What is it you’re… concerned about? Specifically.’

‘I love her,’ he says, swinging his legs round so he’s sitting on the sofa now.

I wonder if he’s naked under there. I’m pretty sure he usually sleeps naked. I don’t know whether I’ve just imagined that or if Celine’s mentioned it. Not that I’ve been imagining Adam naked. Much.

‘It’s just…’ Adam continues and I snap my eyes back up to his face. He’s looking over at the TV, fortunately. ‘She’s great. I love her. Right? But we just… we fight a lot. Like all the time. You know?’

I do know.

‘And sometimes it’s about stupid shit and I think it’s just ’cos I’m annoying and she’s, like, precious about stuff – she screamed at me last night for leaving my shoes in the middle of the floor – but then it’s bigger stuff too. Like what we both want… out of life. You know?’

I drink some more tea. ‘I think… you’re both very different.’

‘Yes!’ Adam says, leaning forward and slapping himself on the knee, as if I’ve given him a great insight rather than just telling him something everyone already knows. ‘But, like, that’s meant to be good, yeah? Opposites attract? And I did like that when we first met. That she’s not like me. And I think she liked that too. But now it pisses her off. She doesn’t want me going to the gym so much. I said I was thinking of doing an Iron Man and she looked at me like I’d shit in her pocket.’

I laugh. I can imagine that exact look.

‘I think maybe you need to talk to her?’ I say. That’s always good relationship advice, right? You can’t go wrong with talking. I hope.

‘Celine’s not really into talking,’ Adam says, tipping his head forward and rubbing the back of his neck. ‘She likes to resolve things more… physically.’

My face heats immediately.

‘You can all hear us, right?’ Adam asks.

I nod. I’m staring down at the floor. There’s no way I can look at him now. Instead I stare at the orange stain on the carpet, made when Henry knocked a pot of mango chutney off the coffee table a couple of months ago.

‘I think she gets off on it,’ Adam says.

God. It is way too early for this.

‘Sorry,’ Adam says. ‘I was just lying awake for a while, thinking, and I’m a bit…’

I don’t look up, so I don’t know if there’s a gesture or expression to accompany whatever it is he is.

‘I didn’t mean to embarrass you,’ he says.

‘I’m not embarrassed,’ I say. Even though I know full well my face is burning red.

‘Can I just ask one more thing?’ he says.

I nod. I think.

‘Is it, like, a problem? For you and Henry and Freya? Hearing us, I mean?’

‘Do you mean… um…’ I manage to say.

‘Both, I guess. Fighting and fu— the other thing.’

My face is now so hot it’s actually starting to hurt. I picture it sizzling. Like a fajita.

‘I don’t think so?’ I say. ‘As long as it’s not too late. On a weeknight.’ That’s truly the most pathetic answer I could possibly have given. I’m embarrassed for myself. Please keep your fighting and fucking to early evenings and weekends!

Adam laughs, at least. ‘Right. OK.’

‘I did say I wasn’t the best person to talk to about this.’

‘No,’ he says. ‘That’s been really helpful.’

‘I doubt it. I’m sorry.’

Adam grins at me and stands up. He’s wearing pants, thank god. Tiny bright blue pants. I stare back at the mango stain again.

‘Morning,’ he says and I look up to see Henry at the door. He looks at Adam and then at me. His hair’s standing on end and he’s still in his pyjamas – red pyjama bottoms and a shapeless white T-shirt. Henry in pyjamas! A never-before-seen sight!

‘I overslept,’ he says.

‘Shit!’ I grab my phone. I hadn’t even thought about the time. Or work. ‘We’ll be OK if we leave in the next fifteen minutes,’ I tell Henry.

‘Thanks for the talk, Bea,’ Adam says. He’s rolled his duvet up and is heading out of the room with it under his arm. He fist-bumps Henry on the way past and Henry’s eyebrows pull together with confusion.

‘He slept on the sofa,’ I tell him. ‘He and Celine had a row.’

‘Right,’ he says. He glances over his shoulder to make sure Adam’s gone. ‘Does he know?’

‘It doesn’t sound like it, no.’

‘Shit.’

I drink the last of my tea and leave Henry in the lounge while I have a very quick shower. When I’m done, Henry is dressed and ready to leave, his hair still wet from the shower too.

During the five minute walk to the shop, I recap my conversation with Adam.

‘I just assumed they were both cool with it,’ Henry says. ‘The fighting and the making up.’

I glance at him. The tips of his ears have gone pink.

‘I don’t understand it,’ I tell him, as we wait at the traffic lights. ‘I know that arguments are meant to be healthy in a relationship or whatever. But maybe not that much?’

Henry shrugs. ‘Me and Caroline used to argue, even have massive rows sometimes, but nowhere near as much as Celine and Adam.’

I want to ask him about the making up afterwards, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I wonder if he’s thinking about it now too.

He nods. ‘You never met Caroline, did you?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘You were together for a while?’

He’s talked about her before. A little. Usually when drunk.

‘Four years,’ he says.

‘Bloody hell.’

A bus passes and then we cross.

He laughs, humourlessly. ‘Yeah. We were fourteen when we first started going out together and I know no one expected us to stay together – I didn’t either – but it was just so easy. We were really happy. But then we went to different universities. We’d planned to go to the same one to begin with – she was going to come to London too – but then she said she thought it would be better if we had a bit of space.’

‘Oh-oh.’

‘Yeah. You see, you say that. I agreed with her. I was thinking about meeting her at the station and having weekends together and how romantic it would be to do the long-distance thing. And it was, at first. I remember going to meet her at Euston and she ran up the ramp – you know, from the trains?’

I nod and steer him around a guy heading into the grocer’s with a pile of fruit crates on a tip-up trolley.

‘She ran up the ramp and practically jumped on me. She nearly knocked me on the floor, you know. But people were looking and she was kissing me and it was just… it’s still one of my best memories.’

‘So what happened?’

‘She invited me up to stay with her – she was at Sheffield and she loved it. She said she wanted to show me the university and her halls and for me to meet her friends and everything. But I knew within about half an hour of being there that she’d fallen in love with someone else.’

‘No!’ I actually stop walking, I’m so shocked. ‘But why would she invite you, if—’

‘I think she was trying to convince herself to stay with me. Maybe. Or she wanted to compare us? I don’t know. But I spent the weekend being a passive aggressive arsehole and then when I got home she rang me and finished it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘That sucks.’

‘Yep.’

We pass the cinema and Subway – I don’t really know what to say – and then a laugh bursts out of him.

‘The look on your face when Adam stood up in those tiny pants.’

I let out a bark of laughter of my own and immediately cover my mouth with my hand. ‘Oh my god, I know! What were they?!’

‘I think the Australians call them “budgie smugglers”,’ Henry says.

I laugh again. ‘To be honest, it was kind of a relief. I thought he might be naked.’

‘Fuck, don’t say that. I’ll have to get the sofa covers cleaned.’