‘So the washing line is down here. You can hang your laundry, but otherwise keep to the patio, yeah? The old man is fussy about his garden.’

Leah sees Jake glance around at the tangled mess with a sceptical air but he is too polite to comment, and she says to Mark: ‘Your father? Does he live upstairs?’

‘Well, kind of. He’s been away for a while, but he’s coming back now.’

‘Has he been travelling?’

‘Mmm.’

‘And your mother?’

‘No. She died when I was a kid.’ His gaze swivels away from her to Jake, and he says: ‘So? Do you want to take it?’

‘Absolutely!’ Jake replies.

‘Cool.’ The two men shake on it.

They are discussing the rent, the setting up of monthly payments, but Leah is distracted, her sights drawn to the upper windows of the house, momentarily wondering at the occupant upstairs. Ivy creeps across the rendered wall, snaking into the corners of the windows, which are smeared with dust. There’s something lonely about the thought of the widower living there alone. And another thought chases that one: Did Mark’s mother die in this house?

‘Leah?’ Jake asks, and her attention snaps back to him. ‘Are you coming?’

She follows Jake through the French windows. As agreed, Jake hands over their deposit as well as the first month’s rent – an envelope of cash that Mark casually pockets without checking it first. It comes to her again: the feeling that this arrangement between them is somehow underhand, wrong. Mark’s manner unsettles her in a way she cannot put her finger on. She says nothing, just watches as he hands Jake the keys.

‘May as well take these, then.’

‘We can move in straight away?’ Jake asks, excitement again in his voice.

‘Sure. Why not?’

Then Mark turns to go, striding out into the little hall. Before he reaches the front door, he stops, remembering something. ‘One last thing. That door.’ He points to one in the hall that neither Leah nor Jake had spotted. ‘It connects to upstairs. It’s locked on both sides, so you needn’t worry.’

‘No, right. Of course,’ Jake says.

‘He’ll keep to himself anyway,’ Mark adds. ‘He won’t bother you.’ And something about the way his eyes catch hers gives her pause. ‘Right, I’ll be off. Call me if there’s anything.’

And then he’s gone and it’s just the two of them alone in their place.

‘Why do you suppose he doesn’t live here?’ Leah asks, as they listen to Mark’s footsteps on the pavement above.

‘Dunno. He probably has his own place. His own life.’

She thinks again of the look in Mark’s eyes, the quick flash in them before he averted his gaze. ‘It just seems odd, that’s all,’ she remarks. ‘Perhaps they don’t get on – father and son.’