n that New Year’s night above the bright lights of the city I asked him, ‘Have you ever thought you might leave your wife?’ I didn’t mean for me. My bottle was beaded with moisture, and cold. We could no longer see the small white streak of the yacht below.

Craig said, ‘My wife – my wife doesn’t want an adventure. She draws a blank. Me, I’m restless. I’d rather quit a job and start again. I’d rather give the finger. And I can strike up anywhere. And – God. She’s an attractive woman. You wouldn’t think, to look at me. You wouldn’t pick her for my wife.’

He fell silent. A bird called in the dark. Craig said, ‘I don’t know, Francie. How can I answer that? I left her before I even married her. There’s nothing there to leave.’

‘What’s she doing now probably?’ I said. ‘Tonight, for New Year’s Eve.’

‘Waiting,’ Craig said, and then he didn’t speak again for a long time.