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He shrugged. “Only on weekends.”

Alex jutted out a hip. “He goes for a long shower with a plate of toast and raspberry jam. Gets crumbs all over my loofa. Weirdo. And he has freaky nightmares sometimes. He jolts up in bed, mumbling about football. Oh, and he’s scared of flowers! If he buys me snapdragons, they have to be covered in cellophane. He can’t bear to touch them.”

“Lex hates Thai food. How can anyone hate the happiness that is a pad thai takeaway? And she has an unhealthy infatuation with Tower Bridge.” Mark scratched his stubble.

“That I do know,” said Lucy.

“What’s not to like?” Alex shrugged. “It opens its arms to welcome big boats…”

“And how have you not watched the entire run of Friends?” The actor waved his hands defiantly in the air. “Could that show be any more awesome?”

Lucy burst out laughing.

“The last scene in the finale gets him…every…time.” Alex brushed her bangs from her forehead. “You know, the one where they leave the keys behind? Cries like a baby.”

He tickled Alex’s waist. “Yeah, well, you’re a sleep farter.”

“Mark!” Alex squealed with a half-laugh, shimmying out of his grasp.

“Well! You’ve exposed all my secrets.” Mark laughed. “Fair is fair.”

“All of them? Yeah, right. I bet there are some skeletons in your closet I’ve heard nothing about, mister!”

Mark adopted a look of angelic innocence as a roar went up behind him from the Old Trafford faithful. “Come on, it’s about to kick off.”