‘Daniel’s, but he was out.’ She wouldn’t mention that she should’ve been with him now, in Manchester. ‘What’s Catherine up to?’

He shrugged. ‘She got up and went out, an hour ago. Meeting her cronies at the Carlton, I expect.’

‘Did you see her? She had a black eye and a cut.’

Peter shook his head. ‘She didn’t look in on me,’ he said. ‘She was too interested in opening time, and finding some mug to buy her a drink.’

‘Sometimes I think we should just change the lock while she’s gone, and not let her back in. Except she’d show us up, banging on the door.’

He turned his face to hers. ‘I want you to leave, Alison.’

She said, ‘What, right now, this minute?’

She wasn’t serious, but he nodded. ‘Well, as soon as you can get your stuff together. I want you to leave.’ He was speaking in a loud whisper to spare his throat, but it only made everything seem even stranger, and although he was in earnest, Alison wasn’t really taking him seriously; she only sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. She’d fantasised many a time about another existence: it would be a bluestocking life; she’d have digs and a bicycle, and she’d pedal through leafy streets to an ivy-clad college where she’d talk to a professor about Jane Austen or Shakespeare or Milton. She’d have tea with fellow students, and make toast on a long fork by a real fire.

‘So,’ Peter said, ‘I’ve got an escape plan for you. Been planning it a while.’

She smiled. ‘Oh yeah? A rope ladder from my bedroom window?’

‘I mean it, Alison. I’m stuck here, this is my lot, but you’re not, you were meant to be somebody, that’s what nature intended.’

‘I couldn’t leave you,’ she said. She still hadn’t realised that he meant what he said. ‘We’re a team.’

‘I’m a fucking mess, Alison. My life’s a mess. Yours isn’t, yet. But you stay here, you’ll be tainted by it, you’ll be dragged down. I can’t watch that happen, so clear off, get away, over the Channel, anywhere. Put some water between yourself and Sheffield. Don’t look back.’