‘Your nerves?’ echoes Robert disbelievingly. He’s had two pints of water and a lemonade, and I’ve had a large whisky (just to calm the nerves). His face has colour again, and we’ve decided to wait for Luke, Sophie and Dave in a bar in Notting Hill that Plum keeps talking about. ‘Fresh air is good,’ says Robert, when I suggest a taxi, or that perhaps, for his sake, we ought to go home. (Dave can always join us there, right?) ‘I want to walk. It’s not that cold.’ I keep my arm around him as we’re walking along the top of Hyde Park towards Notting Hill. At first, I was supporting him because he was a little woozy. I felt like he needed looking after. But then it was just comfortable: we walk well together. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ I say. ‘Do you want me to go and find that guy and beat him up for you?’ ‘No,’ says Robert, laughing. ‘Thanks. You’re my knight in shining four-inch-heels.’ We stop in two pubs on the way, getting a lemonade for Robert and a whisky for me, then pretend to go for a cigarette and just keep walking with our drinks.
