He went to Clio’s bedsit rather than home, let himself in, not expecting her to be back yet. The air smelled bad, of blood or something, a warm harsh rush of it, and he could sense another presence somewhere in there.

‘Hello?’

She didn’t answer, but he could tell she was there. Her battered little wheeled suitcase was open in the hall, the contents spilling out as though ransacked by a burglar. He found her in bed, open eyes peeking over the covers raised to her nose, staring fixedly at the ceiling.

‘Hey. Good break?”

‘Hi.’ She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t know, he thought. There was no way. She was obviously just in another rough patch. She’d actually been a lot better in the few weeks before she’d left, occasionally clinging to him with an intensity that freaked him out, as it was so unlike her, but mostly smiling, singing even, cooking breakfasts and deferring to him like some weird robot-housewife. Still, these things always came to an end, and how many times had he stayed now, held there by duty and obligation, resenting every cup of tea he had to bring her, because she’d suddenly fallen into a funk? Don’t lose the momentum, man, he’d thought. Much better to rip the plaster off, let her move on. This was no life for either of them anymore. It hadn’t been for years. And didn’t she deserve someone more like herself, someone who could make her properly happy? He was definitely failing at that.

He walked round to her side of the bed, kneeled down beside her.

‘Clee, d’ya wanna sit up or something? Come through and have a cuppa?’

‘No, I’m fine here. Thanks.’

‘All right. All right. So, where did you go then? This weekend? I thought you hated it at your mum’s.’

‘Actually, I checked into a hotel. For a spa. Felt like treating myself.’

‘Ah right, good. Good. You need that. Everyone needs that, time to time, yeah? Nice. Nice thing to do. So, you feeling relaxed, yeah.’

‘I’ve never been happier.’ Monotone. She rolled over on her side, turned her naked back to him. The smell of blood was stronger as the covers moved; she must be on her period or something.

Do it. Just do it.

‘Clee. Something I need to tell you, isn’t there.’

‘Is there?’