Susanna Cox from HiNotes rings one afternoon and shakes me back to life. I’m surprised to hear from her. None of our ex-business acquaintances have been in contact in the month since we lost Tõnality. I guess they’re afraid our bad luck will rub off on them.

‘I wanted to ring after I heard what happened but I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate a call,’ Susanna sounds uncertain. ‘How are you?’

‘Keeping busy.’ Just as well we’re not on Skype. At three in the afternoon I’m still in my dressing gown and the panda slippers Ali bought me for Christmas. ‘How are things in HiNotes?’

‘Just holding our heads above water,’ she admits. ‘Wanker bankers… but I don’t have to tell you that. Thankfully, parents still want their darlings to become music virtuosos so that keeps our doors open. Are you working again?’

‘Not yet. My CV is with a recruitment agency. I’m expecting to hear from them soon.’

Why tell the truth when a little white lie makes conversation that bit easier? The young woman in the recruitment agency looked appalled when she checked the educational qualifications on my CV. No degrees, not even a teeny weeny certificate? Years of experience with Tõnality were dismissed with a shrug of her shoulder pads. My earlier confidence drained away as she explained why a degree, and preferably, a masters or PhD, were de rigueur these days in her high-powered business world.

‘I thought about you last night when I was having dinner with a friend of mine,’ Susanna says. ‘Jessica Walls. You may have heard of her?’

Who hasn’t heard of Jessica Walls? Those living in caves, perhaps, but, even there, word would filter down through the limestone cracks.

‘She’s looking for an advertising manager,’ Susanna continues. ‘I mentioned your name.’

I feel my chin lifting, my mind growing still.

‘Are you interested?’ she asks when I don’t reply.

I clear my throat and try to keep my voice from wobbling. ‘Does it matter that I don’t have a business degree?’

‘Jessica had zilch degrees to her name when she launched her first magazine,’ Susanna replies. ‘School of life, just like you. Go and meet her. I’ve filled her in on your background. She trusts my judgement.’

‘Does she know about Tõnality?’

‘She knows and understands how it can happen. She’s folded twice and picked herself up again. Each time she grew bigger. Now she has Lustrous as her flagship magazine. Selling advertising will be your main responsibility, although you’ll probably be involved in other aspects of the magazine. Jessica works her staff hard but you won’t be bored. What do you think?’

‘Sounds like Tõnality. I was Jill of all trades there.’ I force myself to sound confident. As Eleanor would say, perception is everything. ‘Thanks, Susanna. I appreciate your help.’

‘One other thing,’ she says. ‘Tell Jake to ring me if he’s interested in some part-time teaching. One of my guitar teachers is heading for Australia next month. Sign of the times, I’m afraid.’

His jeans, ripped at the knees, are covered in oil, his khaki t-shirt damp with sweat when he emerges from under the chassis of his band van.

He agrees to ring Susanna about the guitar classes.

‘Things are looking up, then,’ I say.

‘I guess.’ He slaps his hand off the van and the side window slides down.

There’s a streak of dust on his cheek. I instinctively lean forward to wipe it away then pull back. He bends and picks up a wrench.

‘Good luck at the interview,’ he says. ‘I know you can do it.’

Chapter 19

Jake

Pale walls, a light wooden floor, a table set for two, glass doors opening onto the balcony. Dublin city lay below him, spires, rooftops, bridges, luminous glass pyramids, and Liberty Hall jutting like an amputated thumb into the skyline.

‘What do you think of my view?’ Karin joined him on the balcony.

They leaned over the rail to stare down at the ant-sized pedestrians and the stream of traffic flowing along the quays. Life pulsed here, unlike Sea Aster with its secluded entrance and quietly lapping estuary.

‘Beautiful.’ Jake gazed into her eyes. ‘Quite perfect and as beautiful as I remembered.’

Her lips opened. The hot, hard dart of her tongue aroused him instantly. She moaned softly in response but was the first to draw away.

‘I’ve spent all afternoon preparing a meal for you,’ she said. ‘Let’s sit down and eat before it’s cold.’

She had cooked medallions of lamb with a port jus, gratin potatoes and asparagus with roasted peppers. They steered away from dangerous topics throughout the meal. Nadine’s name was never mentioned. He heard about the design commissions she had received since returning home. He told her about Shard and clearing out the barn, and how he was restoring the band van. Reedy had organised occasional session work for him in the Raison D’être studios, which paid well, if irregularly, and Reedy also intended to find a new drummer.

Was he speaking too fast, laying breathless facts before her? These days he found it impossible to slow down. Being busy was the answer, the only way to cope. And it worked. Mind over matter. Rise in the morning instead of lying in bed and letting his thoughts scurry like ants deprived of their sheltering stone.

Dessert was simple and delicious, fresh raspberries and homemade ice cream, served in blue-rimmed bowls. When it was finished she poured brandy into goblets and carried them to the sofa. Her dress, a buttery shade of yellow, settled in folds around her knees when she sat beside him.

‘Tell me what happened?’ she said. ‘From your email I got the impression you and Nadine had gone through a bereavement, rather than a separation.’

‘A bereavement?’ He pondered the word. It seemed appropriate, if inaccurate. Music played softly in the background. Clair de Lune, Jake recognised the expressive sway and sweep of Dubussy, the rhythmic notes challenging yet soothing. ‘I wanted to contact you,’ he said. ‘I lost count of the times I stopped myself from ringing. Nothing was working out as planned and I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.’

‘Would you have got in touch if I hadn’t made the first move?’ she asked.

He hesitated. Since the collapse of Tõnality she had become a wishful thought, an almost forgotten allurement, and that’s where she would have stayed if she had not emailed him to ask when he intended keeping his promise.

‘I promised to contact you when I’d sorted out my life,’ he said. ‘But how could I come back to you and tell you I was still living with Nadine, even though we’d separated.’

She listened without interruption while he described the tumbling apart that had left him and Nadine still together.

‘Upstairs… downstairs,’ she said. ‘That’s close.’

‘It may seem that way but I assure you – ’

She touched his lip with her fingers and silenced him. ‘Space doesn’t matter, Jake. It’s your emotions that will determine the distance between the two of you. How close are you to Nadine… here?’ He saw a flash of blue below her cleavage as she leaned towards him. She lifted his hand and pressed it to her chest. He felt the steady thud of her heart against his palm and when she moved, almost imperceptibly, his hand curved on the swell of her breasts. ‘And here,’ she whispered. ‘How close… how close… Jake?’

‘My marriage is over, Karin. This is what I want…’ His voice rasped as his fingers slid under the V of her neckline. He glimpsed the edge of lace and his breath, harsher now, stirred the blonde, feathery strands framing her face.

‘Show me how much it’s over.’ She was still whispering as her dress pooled on the floor. The sight of her breasts, so pert and perfect in their kingfisher blue cups and slender straps, almost undid him. He was afraid it would be over before it began and he stopped, allowed the rush of desire to abate before he continued unhooking her, hoping he would not fumble and ruin the moment. When her breasts were free she held his face in her hands, forced him to look into the deep blue irises, her gaze unblinking, her whispering words commanding him to show her… show her… show her. He tore his gaze away and bent to trace his tongue over her dusty-pink nipples, to sink his lips into unfamiliar contours and crevices.