‘How dare you patronize me?’ I say angrily. ‘You’ve been using the town as cover, using me . . . How can you possibly justify what you do? How can you?’

An unreadable expression passes over his face, then he rolls the leg of my jeans down. ‘I think you’ll be fine to go home now. Winfred will take you.’

‘I could call the authorities, turn you in.’

‘Yes.’ He takes his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and shrugs one out of the packet. ‘You could.’

‘And you think I won’t!’

‘I think you’re a fugitive, Alice,’ he says quietly, ‘and therefore not much different to the rest of us.’