She heard footsteps behind her. Trying not to look scared, she turned. Two young guys across the road, the scuff of their boots too loud, highlighting the sudden death of the wind. They were just students or something, minding their own business, cutting purposefully towards the pub or back home. Since when had she started becoming paranoid about her neighbours? In the lull, she strained to hear noises behind the door. She’d give it another minute. She heard the breeze approaching through the dark stand of spruces behind Milverton House and then it funnelled its way along Brook, kicking up all the detritus in a flurry. Her hood flipped off her head and her ear was filled with wind and wet dust and her hair pulled out of her collar, and she pictured herself as she’d look to those boys; then she remembered the boys in the dell, and for the first time since Vincent had called she considered that he might be messing with her. Or that it might be Ellis Brown, setting her another trap.

But Vincent had sounded so genuine this time – a call instead of those terse, ambiguous texts. His voice, sounding like himself; it felt like they had passed over this last rubbish week and it was a chance to start over. She hadn’t hesitated to join him here. She turned away.

The red door opened. ‘Petra. Hey, sorry. I was in the back. Come in. Jesus, it’s foul out there.’

Petra closed the door behind herself – just latched, not locked with a key – and followed Vincent down the corridor. Homely lights were shining over the staircase and there was a warm glow spilling out of the rooms at the end of the corridor. It was stripped bare now, no frames against the wall, no building supplies spilling out of closets. Everything vacated and swept; it looked like an empty show house.

‘This is my last night in the house,’ Vincent said. ‘I hand over the keys tomorrow. I wanted to mark it somehow…’

Petra nodded.

‘I thought it would be nice to say goodbye with you.’

Petra stopped, probably even took a couple of involuntary steps backward. ‘Say goodbye? Vincent, you’re not…’ God – he’s not planning to take me with him, is he? ‘I thought we’d discussed this. I thought you were okay.’

He smiled, tiredly, but a genuine smile. ‘Oh, ha. That came out wrong. I meant say goodbye to the studio. Nothing else.’ He gestured down the corridor. ‘Come, please. I just… you’ll see what I mean.’