Anton is a patient man. And there is an art to this sort of thing – a method. He recalls his approach from years gone by, how so much of it involved hanging back and waiting, always leaving the door open for an experience. The initial connection made, the pilot light of desire lit, he would hold himself back from acting upon it, knowing that this was the way to fan the flames. Sometimes it would happen by chance. He had met Gail before a flight from London, idling in the airport lounge when it was delayed. Maria worked for a telecoms company and had called to the office to try to sell him a new communications package. Louise and then Anne-Marie, both babysitters for his children. Hilary had rented the flat downstairs.

In each of them, he’d seen a want, like a small hunger, they kept hidden inside them. Good girls who secretly yearned to transgress but needed persuasion. And that was half the fun – the game they made of it. The way he had to coax and cajole, deploying his classical education to good effect – all those Greek myths, coming in handy in a way he hadn’t considered as a boy. How they lapped it up when he likened them to Helen and Persephone. To Artemis and Demeter and Ariadne. Perfect pleasure to watch them wilt and surrender themselves to him. Fun while it lasted, but he always went back to Charlotte. That was a given. A non-negotiable.

For two days Leah has been in his house, her sleeping form occupying the room upstairs. On that first morning, he had gone down to the basement flat for her toothbrush and some of her things. A laundry basket with neatly folded fresh clothes was on the floor beside her bed, and he had carried it up all those flights of stairs to Charlotte’s bedroom, not saying a word, just leaving it in the curve of the bay window, the toothbrush in a glass on the nightstand. She hardly stirred. Tea trays were brought up during the day and left untouched. In the evening, he had stood in the shadowy darkness behind the door left ajar, watchful of her movements, her breathing. Sometime in the night, a noise like a whimper, but when he tiptoed across the landing to check, there was only silence.