I pushed myself upright, rubbing at my face. ‘No. No … It’s good to hear from you.’ I flicked on the bedside light. ‘How are you?’

‘Good! I’m back in New York.’

‘Great.’

‘Yeah. It was great to see the olds and all, but after a couple of weeks I was itching to get back here. This city is epic.’

I forced a smile, in case he could hear it. ‘That’s great, Nathan. I’m glad for you.’

‘You still happy at that pub of yours?’

‘It’s fine.’

‘You don’t … want to do something else?’

‘Well, you know when things are bad, and you tell yourself stuff like, “Oh, it could be worse. I could be the person who cleans the poop out of the dog-poop bins”? Well, right now I’d rather be the person who picks up the poop out of the dog-poop bins.’

‘Then I’ve got a proposition for you.’

‘I get that a lot from customers, Nathan. And the answer is always no.’

‘Ha. Well. There’s a job opening out here, working for this family I live with. And you were the first person I thought of.’

Mr Gopnik’s wife, he explained, was not a Wall Street Wife. She didn’t do the whole ‘shopping and lunches’ thing; she was a Polish émigrée, prone to mild depression. She was lonely, and the help – a Guatemalan woman – wouldn’t say two words to her.

What Mr Gopnik wanted was someone he could trust to keep his wife company and help with the children, to be an extra pair of hands when they travelled. ‘He wants a sort of Girl Friday to the family. Someone cheerful and trustworthy. And someone who is not going to go blabbing about their private life.’

‘Does he know –’

‘I told him about Will at our first meeting, but he’d already done background. He wasn’t put off. Far from it. He said he was impressed that we’d followed Will’s wishes and never sold our stories.’ Nathan paused. ‘I’ve worked it out. At this level, Lou, people value trust and discretion over anything else. I mean, obviously you can’t be an idiot, and have to do your job well, but, yeah, that’s basically what matters.’

My mind was whirling, an out-of-control waltzer at a fairground. I held the phone in front of me and put it back to my ear. ‘Is this … Am I actually still asleep?’

‘It’s not an easy ride. It’s long hours and a lot of work. But I’ll tell you, mate, I’m having the best time.’

I pushed my hand through my hair. I thought about the bar, with its huffing businessmen and Richard’s gimlet stare. I thought about the flat, its walls closing in on me every evening. ‘I don’t know. This is … I mean it all seems –’

‘It’s a green card, Lou.’ Nathan’s voice dropped. ‘It’s your board and lodging. It’s New York. Listen. This is a man who gets stuff done. Work hard, and he’ll look after you. He’s smart, and he’s fair. Get out here, show him what you’re worth, and you could end up with opportunities you wouldn’t believe. Seriously. Don’t think of this as a nanny job. Think of it as a gateway.’

‘I don’t know …’

‘Some fella you don’t want to leave?’

I hesitated. ‘No. But so much has gone on … I’ve not been …’ It seemed an awful lot to explain at two o’clock in the morning.

‘I know you were knocked by what happened. We all were. But you’ve got to move on.’

‘Don’t say it’s what he would have wanted.’

‘Okay,’ he said. We both listened, as he said it silently.

I tried to gather my thoughts. ‘Would I have to go to New York for an interview?’

‘They’re in the Hamptons for the summer, so he’s looking for someone to start in September. Basically, in six weeks. If you say you’re interested, he’ll interview you on Skype, sort out the paperwork to get you over, and then we go from there. There will be other candidates. It’s too good a position. But Mr G trusts me, Lou. If I say someone’s a good bet, they’re in with a chance. So shall I throw your hat in the ring? Yes? It is a yes, right?’

I spoke almost before I could think. ‘Uh … yes. Yes.’

‘Great! Email me if you’ve got questions. I’ll send you some pics.’

‘Nathan?’

‘Gotta go, Lou. The old man has just buzzed me.’

‘Thank you. Thanks for thinking of me.’

There was a slight pause before he responded. ‘No one I’d rather work with, mate.’

I couldn’t sleep after he rang off, wondering whether I had imagined the whole conversation, my mind humming with the enormity of what might lie in front of me if I hadn’t. At four, I sat up and emailed Nathan a handful of questions, and the answers came straight back.

The family is okay. The rich are never normal (!) but these are good people. Minimal drama.

You’d have your own room and bathroom. We’d share a kitchen with the housekeeper. She’s all right. Bit older. Keeps herself to herself.

Hours regular. Eight – at worst ten – a day. You get time off in lieu. You might want to learn a bit of Polish!

I finally fell asleep as it grew light, my mind full of Manhattan duplexes and bustling streets. And when I woke up, an email was waiting for me.

Dear Ms Clark,

Nathan tells me you might be interested in coming to work in our household. Would you be available for a Skype interview on Tuesday evening at 5 p.m. GMT (midday EST)?

Yours sincerely,

Leonard M. Gopnik

I stared at it for a full twenty minutes, proof that I hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. And then I got up and showered, made myself a strong mug of coffee and typed my reply. It wouldn’t hurt to have the interview, I told myself. I wouldn’t get the job, if there were lots of highly professional New York candidates. But it was good practice, if nothing else. And it would make me feel as if I were finally doing something, moving forward.

Before I left for work, I took Will’s letter carefully from the bedside table. I pressed my lips to it, then folded it carefully and put it back in the drawer.

Thank you, I told him silently.

It was a slightly thinned-out version of the Moving On Circle that week. Natasha was on holiday, as was Jake, for which I was mostly relieved and a tiny bit put out in a way I couldn’t reconcile. The evening’s topic was ‘If I could turn back time’, which meant that William and Sunil hummed or whistled the Cher song unconsciously at intervals for the entire hour and a half.