‘Nonetheless,’ he said, not understanding. ‘You’re soaked.’

‘Scout rescued me,’ Sheanna said. ‘Like in Baywatch. I thought I could swim like normal and I kept trying to hold my breath and go under a bit but it was really, really, really cold.’

Up, swaying. Shivering. Still unable to look either of them in the eye. ‘I’ve got to go now.’

‘No,’ said Joe, and he seemed to understand the fragility of the moment. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

‘I left the bike down there. My stuff.’

‘Franklin will go and get it.’

‘Sure,’ Franklin said. ‘OK.’

Upstairs, Joe opened some drawers, pulled out tracksuit bottoms, a T-shirt, a jumper. ‘I’m not sure – I’ll leave you to it here for a second, OK?’ There was another towel already on the bed. He coughed, and it seemed to seize him for a moment before he straightened.

Matty couldn’t look at him properly.

‘OK,’ he said, almost to himself, and shut the door.

A silence. The world reduced to this alien room, with its quilted double bed and bedside lamps, a pile of books on one side. A large, detailed map of North America on the wall above it, Canada in salmon pink. Two bottles of aftershave on a chest of drawers. No ashtray.

Matty’s skin was still cold. Tolerance went fast if you didn’t keep it up. Everything came off now, pants and sports bras included.

His clothes. A faded red T-shirt with a tiny hole at the shoulder. Navy-blue joggers. Thick woollen jumper. All of them new to Matty, and all of them him.

They smelt the same.

In the living room, Sheanna had a bowl of tomato soup on a tray. Joe and Franklin were sitting either side of her on the sofa. She’d pushed the blanket off.

‘I still feel funny. Can I have another hot chocolate?’ she was saying.

‘After you’ve finished that,’ said Franklin.

They both looked up as Matty appeared in the doorway. An extra T-shirt on underneath. The tracksuit bottoms overly bunched at the waist to keep them up. Everything else fit.

‘Any better?’ Joe said, standing up. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.

Nod.

‘Will you have some soup?’ There was a bowl of it already set on a small coffee table.

Head-shake.

The two men glanced at each other.

‘So. You guys knew each other already?’ Franklin said. A thread of suspicion in his voice. He was a large man, filled out. He had presence.

‘Scout’s a boy-mermaid,’ said Sheanna, before slurping from her spoon.

There was subtle fascination in Joe’s expression.

‘OK,’ said Franklin. ‘You hung out or something, or …?’ He thought there was something untoward in it.

‘At the car park,’ she said.

‘But you never said, sweetheart. You were talking to someone you didn’t know and you didn’t tell us about it?’