I nodded, happy to let my nerves be confused with inebriation. We exited the restaurant onto the street. The bitter air a shock after being indoors.

‘You know what I fancy?’ I said, and Ian smirked.

‘Do tell.’

‘A gin and tonic,’ I replied. I didn’t want one in the slightest, but it was all part of the plan.

‘I have gin.’

‘Ah, but do you have lemons?’

He grimaced and pushed me towards the door of Tesco Express. ‘If the lady wants lemons, lemons she will have.’

A few minutes later we continued our journey, a shopping bag swinging from Ian’s hand. I couldn’t believe the time, noticing as we left the store that it was almost eleven. Where had the evening gone? It seemed to have flown by. My legs were heavy. Dread weighed in the pit of my stomach like a bowling ball. I was sinking in it. Turning into his road, I had to fight the urge to run. Thankfully Ian was mid-conversation, airing his annoyance that people parked on grass verges. He hadn’t noticed me slowing my pace. I could do this. I would do this. Now was the time to focus.

We’d barely made it inside the door when Ian pushed me against the wall in a passionate embrace. I hadn’t expected it to happen so fast and my knees buckled underneath my weight.

‘I’ve been dying to get you here all night.’ Did his tone sound sinister or had I imagined it?

I squeaked and wriggled out of his grasp. He stepped back, lip curled. Did he think I was being a tease?

‘Gin,’ I slurred, pushing him towards the kitchen and slipping out of my boots. Alcohol would be my excuse.

As soon as he was out of the room, I dived for the camera, still hidden in the bookcase. A thin layer of dust coated the top and I was satisfied it hadn’t been found. I unplugged the small device and slipped it into my handbag. The lead I discarded on the floor, hidden behind the plant pot.

I took off my jacket and joined Ian in the kitchen, leaning on the door frame. I watched him stumble around, it was like he was in slow motion.

‘I think we may have had too much wine,’ he said, reading my mind and pausing to grin at me. He took a tray out of a cupboard and placed two glass tumblers on it.

Whilst he was occupied, I returned to the front room. Underneath the low coffee table was the metal box still there from my last visit and I knelt to pick it up. All the time straining my ears to listen, sounds of the fridge opening and shutting carried from the kitchen.

‘Fuck,’ Ian yelled, and I jumped, banging my wrist on the table.

‘You okay?’ I called, praying I wasn’t about to be discovered.