‘Do you have any plasters? I didn’t realise I’d caught my thumb. It’s not bleeding, just sore.’ He showed her the split in a patch of dry skin.

‘There’s some in here.’

He trailed after her to the kitchen, where she dug out a first aid kit from a drawer in the dresser.

‘Here, let me do it for you.’ She turned his hand on the side.

He watched her carefully peel back the plastic strips and place the plaster gently across his thumb. As she pressed the sticky tabs to his skin, she gazed into his eyes. With his fingertips he lightly touched the back of her hand and, when she didn’t protest, he caressed her smooth skin.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

Her warm smile widened, eyes still fixed on his.

‘Would it be okay if I have a shower?’ He’d been sweating buckets all day and she was too polite to complain.

‘Of course. I’ll get a clean towel for you.’

Upstairs, he stood close behind her at the airing cupboard.

She spun round, towel in hand.

‘I really appreciate everything, you know,’ he said. She didn’t move away. Her breathing quickened and her hand brushed his as he took the towel.

After his shower, he wandered downstairs wearing it around his waist. Maddy’s face flushed at the sight of him.

‘Can I get you a drink or something to eat?’ Her red face deepened.

‘A glass of water, thanks.’

He was amused at her stealing a glance of his toned chest. As she handed him the glass, he let the towel fall to the ground. She gave a little gasp. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. She was more eager than he’d expected and didn’t resist when he led her up to her bedroom and started to undress her.

That night he lay awake in the dark with the curtains open, Maddy fast asleep. Such a stunning girl, bit old-fashioned in her ways, but that wasn’t her fault. She was incredibly kind and eager to please.

He got up and stood at the window in the silver light of the waxing moon. Gran had sworn by the lunar rhythms and told him it was foolhardy for anyone to ignore them. Below him, a network of gardens was fronted by large houses like this one. He’d have a go at building his own one day. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, tapping the end out of the window. The ash fluttered away like a mini flurry of snow. His mind drifted back to the heavy fall in February. A brother holding each of her arms, pulling her back with every attempt she’d made to lurch forward, face criss-crossed with tears, voice brittle. The shadowy outline of her father in the background. There he went again, as if he didn’t have a future, only a magnet to the past.