I followed him into the living room. He picked up the remote and turned off the TV. A half-full ashtray and can of beer sat on the coffee table. Apart from the TV and an iPod dock, a few magazines and books stuffed untidily onto a bookcase, the room was bare. No pictures on the wall, nothing to make it look like a proper home.

‘Charlie’s stuff is all in her room. Boxed up. Ready for when she moves in with you.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m Fraser. I’m having a beer. Want one?’

It was only noon. I shook my head.

‘Suit yourself. I’m having one.’

He came back and handed me a dirty glass containing tepid tap water, then gestured for me to sit down.

‘So, are you Charlie’s flatmate?’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, you could say that.’

I decided to come back to that one. ‘Why have you been following me?’

He seemed wired, his left leg twitching up and down like it wanted to detach itself and make a run for it. He stared at me, his eyes wide and unblinking, and I wondered if he was on drugs. Was he a smackhead? He was wearing a thick jumper so I couldn’t see his arms, couldn’t tell if they were covered with track marks. He was chewing gum, even while drinking his beer, and his jaw jerked in time with his leg.

‘I told you, I wasn’t.’

‘Then why were you staring at me?’

‘Because I recognised you, didn’t I?’

‘You mean . . . Charlie showed you a photo of me?’

He barked out a laugh. ‘Yeah. Something like that.’

‘What are you smirking at?’

‘I’ve seen you in the flesh before, too.’ I didn’t like the way he said it. It was hot in the room but I felt cold inside. ‘The first time I saw you was back in December. That night you and Charlie hooked up.’

So that was where I had originally recognised him from. That night, coming out of the nightclub. He had seen us and crossed the road. I’d hardly thought anything of it at the time.

He picked up his beer can but fumbled it, knocking it over. Beer gushed onto the carpet between his feet.

‘Oh, bollocks!’ he shouted, springing up and running to the kitchen, coming back with a cloth. ‘Charlie will be well pissed—’ He stopped himself. ‘Ha. Force of habit. I don’t need to worry about all that shit anymore, do I? She’s your problem now.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

He impersonated me, using a whiny voice. ‘What do you mean, what do you mean? You ask a lot of questions. I mean, you’ve got her now, haven’t you? You’re the one who has to deal with her issues.’

I stared at him. ‘Were you and Charlie . . . together?’