I got through to the police and told them I’d seen a man in the park. They said they’d take a look but I could hardly see it being a priority.

She let out a long sigh. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute. I need more wine, that’s all. And dinner. I popped into M and S and got us a moussaka and some salad. Is that OK? I know I said I’d cook, but I’m tired. Work was blah.’

‘Perfect.’

She smiled at me.

‘Promise me you won’t do it again,’ I said.

‘What, buy moussaka?’

‘Walk through the park at night. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.’

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Put the telly on. I need something mindless to cheer me up.’

We ate dinner and drank more wine and pretty soon we were pulling our clothes off, doing it there and then on the sofa, Charlie on top. Afterwards I went to the bathroom and remembered the things Charlie had left in there.

‘I saw you’d put some toiletries in my bathroom cabinet,’ I said when I came out. She was wearing my towelling dressing gown, a fresh glass of wine in her hand.

She looked confused. ‘Huh?’

‘You left a bunch of stuff in the cabinet. Shampoo, conditioner . . .’

‘I didn’t put anything in there.’

‘You must have.’

‘I did leave some stuff in your bedroom – I left it in there by mistake when I was arranging my bag the other day. I was going to ask you about it. But I didn’t put anything in the cabinet.’

‘Oh. It must have been Kristi then.’

She sat up straight. ‘Who’s Kristi?’

‘My cleaner.’

‘You’ve got a cleaner?’

A programme I liked was starting on TV and I was half-distracted by it. Charlie picked up the remote and turned the television off.

‘You’ve got a cleaner?’ she repeated.

‘Yeah. She comes once a week, does a couple of hours. I guess she must have found your things and put them in the bathroom.’

Charlie’s whole demeanour had changed from tired but happy to tense and, seemingly, annoyed. I pulled on my clothes.

‘What’s she like? Some poor, middle-aged woman? A Mrs Mop?’

I thought about Kristi with her smoky eyes and killer cheekbones. ‘No. She’s pretty young. Albanian, I think.’

Charlie looked horrified. ‘Oh God.’

‘What?’

‘It’s so exploitative. Privileged middle-class white male gets poor immigrant to clean his toilet.’

I felt like pointing out that, as far as I could tell, Kristi had never been near my toilet. Apart from tidying up, I still wasn’t sure exactly what she did. But I was dumbstruck by Charlie’s reaction.

‘I’m not exploiting her. She advertised for her services. I’m helping her out, actually. She needs the work.’

‘Really? How much do you pay her?’