“Oh,” she says. “That’s a shame, he was cute.” There’s an uncharacteristic pause and then she goes on. “Anyway, the reason I was ringing was to tell you about Saturday . . .”

He lets her witter on for a bit with the details, a friend of a friend’s birthday, a nightclub, all the gang will be there. He assumes that means he’s part of the gang now. He’s not sure how he feels about that. In the end he finds himself promising her a dance just to get her off the phone.

After that, the evening disappears through the bottom of a glass, and before long the guy behind the bar is calling last orders. Tyler drains his pint and takes his leave, helping an old fellow negotiate the steps on the way out. The man smiles at him with a mouth missing most of its teeth, and then staggers away into the night. The evening is warm and quiet. A group of lads burst from a nearby pub and cheer at nothing in particular. Tyler crosses the street and leaves the high street, moving into the industrial suburbs. The noise of the city begins to fade, and the orange-tinted darkness settles down into standby mode. At one point, an ambulance siren sounds close by and rips the night into action again, but it, too, fades away into the distance and the city returns to its watchful slumber.

Because his flat is part of a reclaimed industrial estate, there are few people around at this hour. He begins to imagine an echo to his footsteps. He turns and looks behind. He listens for the sound of footfalls, but there’s nothing. When he reaches his apartment building, however, he pushes the door firmly shut rather than allowing it to close on its own. He waits until he hears the sound of the lock re-engaging before letting go of the door.

Only as he turns does he notice the figure sitting hunched over next to the lift. Oscar looks up, his head bobbing on his shoulders like a nodding dog. He has the same vague look in his eyes as the old man at the pub.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tyler has a sudden flash of déjà vu even as he notes the slight slur in his own voice.

“I had a few drinks . . .” Oscar tries to stand but loses his balance and falls against the partition wall, the flimsy plasterboard buckling a little under the pressure. “One of . . . your neighbors . . .”

Tyler slams his finger onto the button that calls the lift. “You can’t be here, for fuck’s sake!” How the fuck does he even know where he lives?

“I wanted to see you.”

Tyler presses the button again.

“Adam, wait . . . please . . . Jus’ two minutes . . . then I’ll go.”

Tyler swallows. His mouth is dry and stale with beer. He turns to look at Oscar. “What do you want?”