Ashamed as I am to say it, the truth is it felt better to believe him.

I stayed while he ate a sandwich and supped on a cup of extra-sweet tea. Happy as I was to see him eating, sitting there with me, it made it almost impossible to watch your movements. And after another mini-debate about vegetarianism – ‘That’s why you always look like a Victorian ghost, dear girl’ – I turned to check on you, but your car had already gone.

Outside, I came alive. The warmth of anticipation made me immune to the freezing temperature. Leaning against the pillar at the top of the steps, I smoked a cigarette to mentally prepare. The streetlamp in front of your building flickered annoyingly, so I averted my eyes. But in doing so, I noticed a movement in the adjacent hedge. Presuming it was a cat, I winced as headlights approached, then firmly shut my eyes, praying for its safety as the car sped past. When I reopened them there was no dead cat, thank God, but it happened again. The rustling. I licked my finger and put out the fag, returned it to the packet, then crossed over.

The image of Dale’s anorak reared its head again. The paranoia of prying eyes. I pulled out my phone and dialled him. It rang once, twice. Then, ‘Hey, Connie. I was just about to call you. You on your way back?’

‘Yes . . . well, in about half an hour. I’m just seeing him into bed.’

‘OK, well, hurry up. I’m starving.’

‘I will. I promise.’ As he rattled off a shopping list of stuff to get from Costcutter, I separated the leaves of the bush with my free hand. There was nothing there. Not even a cat.

With the call finished, I was preparing to walk up your steps when I noticed Tippi Hedren and her dog approaching. Minus sunglasses but headscarf still in place, she didn’t exchange pleasantries. Didn’t even acknowledge me as the dog lunged towards my thighs, whining for attention.

I lit up again, forced to hang back as she entered. Allowing time for her to settle in her flat. I didn’t know which floor she lived on but gave her the duration of a whole cigarette before letting myself in.

I didn’t enter blackness this time. The hall light was on. Far from calming me, my fear increased and I froze, listened, until I was certain of your absence.

It’s hard to describe the feeling I had being in there alone. A conflicting mix of danger and safety. Your lack of presence was loud, yet you were everywhere. Not like the house after she’d gone. It didn’t scream death and torment and guilt. It was gentle. Magical. Romantic. I sensed you in every room, around every corner. Smelt you. My stresses dissolved. I was at home there. Both with and without you.