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know this?’
    ‘I live just down the road, don’t I? This is one of my locals.’
    ‘One of them. I like that.’
    It was too damp to sit in the garden, so they found a table in one of the eating areas inside. He brought a pint from the bar and a glass of Chablis for Paloma.
    She was still tetchy with him, as if more needed to be said.He wittered on for a while, explaining that the Dolphin hadn’t got its name from a small whale that had strayed up the Avon, but an old word for a mooring post.
    Only when their meal arrived did Paloma say, ‘When I called you a softie just now, it wasn’t meant as an insult. I don’t think it’s bad if you shed a few tears over a film. It shows you have emotions that are bottled up mostly. You keep them hidden in your working life and I understand why. What I can’t work out is why you don’t relax enough to let your feelings show when you’re off work, such as now.’
    ‘What do you expect? I’m a bloke.’
    ‘There you go again, putting up the shutters.’
    At a loss, he stared across the room. He could think of nothing to say. He’d never been comfortable talking about what he thought of as personal. Even with his beloved wife, Steph, he’d rarely opened up and after her sudden and violent death he’d confided in nobody, preferring to endure the unimaginable grief in isolation. The wound would never heal and he was certain that no one, however well-meaning, could assist. He’d put the shutters up – as Paloma had expressed it – for a reason. He couldn’t predict how he would react if she were to probe his hidden emotions. Paloma was a valued friend and an occasional lover. Up to now she’d been willing to conduct their relationship on those terms. Unless he was mistaken she seemed this evening to be demanding a change in him that he didn’t think he could make.
    When it became obvious Diamond wasn’t going to speak, Paloma said, ‘I know what you’re thinking. Let me remind you that we’ve both got painful areas in our lives – totally different, but hard to bear. My ex-husband, my son. I’ll never come to terms with what happened, just as I wouldn’t expect you to get over your personal tragedy. We’re scarred for life, both of us. But we still
have
a life. Surely it helps to share joys and sadnesses?’
    ‘I prefer to keep my sadnesses to myself,’ he said.
    She looked surprised. ‘But a trouble shared is a trouble halved – or so they say.’
    ‘Claptrap.’
    She didn’t speak for a moment, but her face drained of colour. ‘I beg your pardon.’
    ‘What you just said – it’s only a saying and it’s rubbish. I’m not discussing my private life with anyone.’
    She caught her breath. ‘I thought I was a part of your private life.’
    ‘It doesn’t mean you’re on the inside with a licence to go where you want.’
    ‘You don’t know how hurtful you’re being.’
    ‘I’ll shut up, then.’
    He finished the pie and chips in silence. Although rows with work colleagues were his stock-in-trade, this was his first serious difference with Paloma and he knew he was handling it badly. He offered to get another drink.
    She was tight-lipped.
    ‘Shall we go, then?’ he suggested.
    Still silent, she got up from the table and walked to the door. The barman shouted, ‘Cheers, folks. Have a great evening.’ Neither Diamond nor Paloma answered.
    Out on the towpath, something definitely needed to be said. In ordinary circumstances they would head towards his house and she would spend the night with him. But it wasn’t as if they were married. These intimacies were occasional and by arrangement – a subtle, consensual understanding.
    He said, ‘Perhaps it’s a sign that we’ve moved on, having a few strong words with each other.’ He meant to say they’d grown closer and could speak their differences without the relationship breaking down.
    That wasn’t how Paloma took it. ‘Moved on? Are you saying you want to end it?’ She stopped walking