‘Don’t worry. Ned will sort out the electrical compliance.’ Pause. ‘Yes. These old buildings are always a little dodgy but there’s no reason to trouble the authorities. We’ll make sure it’s safe without their involvement.’

The last thing Petra heard of the conversation was, ‘It’s a great location, Curtis. It’s a great choice.’ He banged the door shut behind him.

Petra knew she should just go. She’d got in the middle of something she shouldn’t be involved in, and she didn’t want the guy to know she’d overheard what that arsehole had said. She thought she heard him moving something in the room next door, so she’d just hurry back down the corridor and leave. The moment had passed – or been punctured – anyhow.

She took a breath and stepped out of her hiding place behind the door – and straight into the falling man.

He frowned for a moment, and then smiled, and his expression – of happiness-to-see-her, of welcome, of hospitality – made her buzz inside, made her organs literally resonate with him.

‘Oh, hi… I…’ She pointed lamely down the corridor, as if that would explain her decision outside on the pavement to ditch her mom and come in here and offer this man her phone number.

He looked at her, but didn’t help her fill in any words.

She straightened up, put her shoulders back, cocked her hip, would have flicked her hair back if she’d had the arm room: he was standing quite close, neither of them had really moved apart since they’d almost run into each other. ‘I didn’t want to leave without, you know, swapping numbers.’

‘Why?’

‘For observation purposes, you know. You were injured and I’d fail in my duty of care if I left you without following up.’

‘You have a duty of care?’

She looked into his eyes, he looked back. It was still there, that gut-pull. She hadn’t imagined it.

He thought for a moment, studying her face. He took his phone out of his pocket. ‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt,’ he said. ‘Duty of care and all.’

She handed him her phone, an act of trust that struck her as unspeakably intimate the few times she had done it. He typed his name and number and handed it back, the plastic slab completing the circuit between them. Falling Guy would be known as Vincent Rice from now on. She texted him back. <Petra. Care and observation.> By the time she thought that sounded a bit cringey and stalkerish, it was too late, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Duty done. I’ll call you about our follow-up appointment.’

‘Yeah, there might be, you know, after-effects.’ He walked her to the door.

‘Who was that idiot on the phone?’ she said as she opened the door. Leaving things unsaid was not a good way to start a friendship.

‘Oh. Just an idiot.’

‘I heard what he said. I’m sure you did, too.’

He shrugged, unwilling to be drawn out.