‘There’s no way.’ He smiles widely, the smile that got her the first time around. ‘I can’t believe it’s you.’ He drops his head forwards and laughs, then stops to look up and confirm it. ‘This is messed-up. Emma’s going to freak out.’

He can’t be serious. He can’t tell her.

The shower water runs loudly through the pipes, Emma will be downstairs any minute, ready to deliver her patter about quick showers and water efficiency.

He pulls back. ‘What are the odds?’

Yvonne is aware of all she hasn’t said, but right now, she doesn’t know where to start. ‘Emma doesn’t need to know we know each other. I mean, we don’t really know each other, do we?’

He cocks his head to one side and smiles, ‘Actually, we kind of do know each other.’

The water thumps off. The time ticks.

‘Please, don’t say anything,’ she rubs her head.

‘Calm down, Evelyn.’

‘It’s Yvonne.’

He puts his hands up in mock defence, ‘Don’t get like that. It was months ago. You probably don’t remember my name either.’

But, of course she does. She remembers everything about him. How he smelled, how he danced, how he wrote down her number on the back of a travel card the next morning. How he never called. Emma can’t know about any of this. ‘Please, don’t tell Emma.’

‘I only just started seeing this girl and you’re asking me to keep a secret from her?’

‘Yes. Well, no. Not a secret, it’s not worth mentioning, is it?’

He nods. ‘Sure. I can keep a secret if you can?’

The bathroom door opens upstairs.

‘I need to go.’

When Yvonne gets home later that evening she’s greeted by the sound of the television coming from the living room. She puts her head around the corner but no one’s in there. She walks towards Emma’s room and pulls back the bed sheet from the doorway, ‘Em?’ The sheets are still ruffled and she wishes she’d never seen it.

‘Hey,’ Box Room Bethany shuffles past holding a plate of potato smiley faces, a fleece blanket thrown over her shoulders.

‘Oh, you’re in. Where’s Emma?’

‘I don’t know where that little cow is,’ Bethany says as she walks through to the living room. ‘What was she playing at last night?’

Yvonne follows her and checks the time, it’s late. This is a bad sign. A sign that Sweetboy’s maybe not kept his mouth shut.

Bethany forks a piece of potato into her mouth. ‘I don’t want to hear all that moaning and shit. And to be honest, it sounded like she was faking it. Was it the guy she met in a chat room?’

Yvonne nods.