'Well, I'm not,' she says, pouting as she smooths his lapels. She was jealous of more than the freedom it represented. She still wishes he would look at her with that much affection.

'I don't like the idea of you without a car. Something with a big, growly motor to run down the scum of Fenchurch East. There's something deeply wrong about the idea of you having to use a pool car every day.'