Harper turned her back on the doorway. The back garden was as wild as the front, apart from a roughly circular section of undergrowth that had been cleared. In the centre of the clearing was the blackened remains of a campfire, surrounded by a ring of logs to sit on. Just over the hedge could be seen the top of the neighbour’s children’s trampoline net. On the other side, creepers climbed the high wall. Vehicles could be heard beyond it, rushing down the hill towards the city centre.

Harper pretended not to listen as three sets of feet scuffled past her out of Gideon’s house and around to the front. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of the back of them: black-hoodied, fat-trainered types in the kind of voluminous trousers that never seemed to go out of fashion with a certain set of students. Once they’d gone, she turned back towards the house, where Gideon had swung wide the kitchen door and was standing back to let them in.

“Sorry about the state of the place,” he said to Amy.

Gideon was bald on top, and what hair he had left was gathered into straggly dreadlocks of varying lengths at the nape of his neck. He wore a collarless shirt of rough yellow cotton and loose black trousers with pockets and elasticated cuffs. Barefoot on the sticky vinyl floor, he gave off that oily, herbal smell that Harper associated with those shops that sold silver skull jewellery and joss sticks.

“Do you guys want some tea?” He rummaged around near the window and unearthed a once-white plastic kettle, then held it dangling from a hand as if he’d never seen it before.

“No, thanks,” said Amy.

“I’m sure there’s some milk here somewhere.”

When he opened the fridge a bad, cheesy stench wafted out and the two women exchanged a glance. Amy gently closed the fridge, assuring Gideon they weren’t in the mood for tea. Harper couldn’t believe these two knew each other, that Amy had once lived here. The man’s surly, generally unwashed appearance made Amy’s neat, charming, carefully made-up self shine even more brightly. She stood in that large, grimy kitchen like a rose growing in a landfill site.

Harper followed Gideon and Amy through to the front room, where she immediately put a hand over her eyes.

“Whatever you have in that plastic box, Gideon, get it out of here now.”

“Oh, Jesus, sorry.”