‘Yeah. Maybe that would have been better,’ said Aysha, her voice breathless.

‘You OK?’

‘Fine,’ said Aysha, but her legs were like jelly. She stared down at Joey, who looked to be unconscious. ‘What the hell are we going to do with him?’ she asked, rummaging in her bag. She found tissues, handed them to Benedict. He dabbed at his lip.

‘Let me make a call,’ said Benedict, and went through to her sitting room and picked up the phone.

Aysha stood there, staring down at her husband. Jesus, was I mad? What did I ever see in a loser like him?

Now Joey looked pitiful. A scruffy overgrown boy. She could hear Benedict talking on the phone, then he came back out into the hall, stuffing the tissues, stained red, into his pocket. His split lip was still seeping blood.

‘Open the door, I’ll pull him,’ said Benedict.

Aysha opened the door. Benedict got his hands under Joey’s armpits and dragged him out, bumping him down the front step and leaving him on the cold pavement.

‘What, we’re just going to leave him there, spark out?’ asked Aysha. Not that she cared, but he could have a head injury. She thought of Dad, dying from a punch to the head, and shuddered. All right, Joey had treated her like dirt, but she couldn’t be so callous as to let him lie there and die, all alone.

‘He won’t be there for long.’

‘Oh?’

‘Someone’s coming to clear the rubbish away,’ said Benedict. ‘The family of one of the blokes he shopped.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Let’s get back inside,’ said Benedict, seeing that a car was moving at the top of the road. He took her arm, ushered her into the flat.

‘Let me get that stain out of your suit before it dries,’ she said, leading the way into the kitchen.

‘Fuck the suit,’ said Benedict, and pulled her to a halt, turning her and kissing her. ‘Ow,’ he said, pulling away sharply.

Aysha stiffened in surprise. Then she started to smile. ‘Hurts a bit, yeah?’

‘Bastard smacked me right in the gob,’ said Benedict, getting the tissues out again and dabbing at the cut. His eyes met Aysha’s. ‘Shit. I may have to get a little inventive here. Kissing may be temporarily out of the question.’

‘Right.’ Aysha’s smile faded. She liked him so much. Fancied him, too. But . . . ‘I don’t want to disappoint you.’

‘How could you do that?’ he tugged her into his arms.

‘Easily.’

‘How? Come on, talk to me. Don’t keep it all inside, that’s not good for you.’

Aysha hitched in a breath and spat it out. ‘Look. I’m not very good at all the sex stuff. I just don’t get it. I’m sorry.’

She felt a hot blush of shame as she said that; she was a failure as a woman.