An unfathomable sense of unease wraps itself around me as I gingerly put a foot onto the landing. Feeling like I’m walking through a minefield, I stand and wait before doing it again.

I’m three steps down and on the mezzanine when I hear faint voices coming from downstairs. Now I’m here, I can see a white glow trickling through the crack in the kitchen door, and my insides uncoil as I realize that Leon must be watching late night television.

I take the rest of the stairs more confidently, relying on the creak from the third tread from the bottom to alert him to my presence.

‘Hey,’ I croak, as I push the door open, my voice rusty from sleep.

I fully expect him to be standing there, munching on cereal in the light of the TV, but the room is empty.

‘Leon?’ I call out, walking around the island and into the open-plan dining room.

It’s there that I see it. My laptop open on the table, playing a scene from an X-rated film. I can’t help but wince at the sound effects, but moreover I cringe with embarrassment at having caught Leon in the throes of whatever it was he was doing.

Yet as I get closer, the blurry faces of the ‘porn stars’ come into focus and I double over as the sucker punch winds me. The moans become clearer, the voices become more distinguishable, the act too unbearable to watch.

It can’t be – it just can’t be.

‘Leon!’ I scream, my angst echoing in the stillness of the house.

I slam the top down, shutting the noise off but sending the room into complete darkness.

‘Fuck!’ I yell, stubbing my toe as I fumble for the light switch. ‘Leon!’

I rush through the ground floor of the house, turning every light on as I go. I take the stairs two at a time and flounder for my phone on the bedside table. I check the spare rooms and the bathroom, but Leon’s nowhere to be seen.

‘Pick up your fucking phone,’ I shout, as I call his number and it rings into voicemail. I immediately try again and he answers.

‘Where are you?’ I yell, as I almost lose my footing coming back down the stairs.

‘I’m not going to do this now,’ he says.

‘You’re what?’ I say, my voice high-pitched, unable to believe what I’m hearing.

‘I’m not going to do this now,’ he repeats.

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m on site,’ he says, bluntly.

‘But it’s the middle of the night.’

‘I can’t stay with you,’ he says.

My brain is so discombobulated that I can’t even begin to process what he’s saying.

‘Have you seen it?’ I ask.

There’s silence at the other end of the line.

‘Have you seen it?’ I cry, my throat closing in around the words.