‘You never, ever used to say sodding,’ he said. ‘Now you say it a hell of a lot.’

She shrugged, but a blush spread across her cheeks and throat, and he noted this too.

‘A Sheffield thing, is it?’ he said with acid in his voice. ‘Something from the good old days?’

It was the work of mere seconds, but on the turn of his words the atmosphere in the small room curdled, and she knew she could neither explain herself nor stand another scene, so she stood up and left him to stew over the facts; stew over what he knew and what he didn’t know, and watch the rest of the game alone.