She placed her hand on his hair. It was damp with sweat. ‘Come on. Come upstairs.’

He looked up at her as though he was a starving man and she’d just offered him a three-course meal. He nodded and slid off the stool. She asked the bar staff to close up and helped Nathan up the stairs to the flat. He clung to her like she was a lifeboat in a storm. He smelled of stale whisky and she wondered when was the last time he’d been even mildly sober.

She helped him into bed and he curled up in the foetal position, mumbling to himself. As she started to walk out of the room, he wailed. ‘Grace! Stay. Please.’ And then he started to sob again.

Sighing, she made her way back over to the bed. She could barely stand the smell of him; he was in desperate need of a shower. But at least she wouldn’t have to spend the night fighting off his wandering hands.

She lay beside him and he curled his body into hers, the way Jake used to when he was small. The exact same way he had that night he’d found her, after Nathan – this sobbing man-child, had almost killed her. No. She could never forget what Nathan was capable of. Not for one minute could she afford to overlook how dangerous he was. He was suffering right now, and because of that he was vulnerable, like a wounded animal. But he was a survivor. He had been through worse. He would get through this. And armed with the knowledge that he’d killed his own father, he would no doubt be even more dangerous than before.

Grace got up before Nathan and made a pot of strong coffee, before phoning his friend John Brennan to come and collect him. She took a cup into the bedroom, and if only for the sake of her sense of smell, persuaded Nathan to take a shower.

John arrived within twenty minutes of her phone call.

‘Hey, Grace.’ He smiled as he took a seat at the kitchen table. ‘How are you?’

‘Okay thanks, John. And you?’

‘All the better for seeing you.’ He winked, ever the charmer.

He flinched as Nathan emerged from the bathroom. Such open flirting with Grace, someone Nathan essentially considered his property, could on occasion incur his epic rage. But if Nathan heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it. He walked towards them, pale and drawn, but smelling a little fresher at least.

‘Hey, mate,’ he mumbled to John.

John nodded at him in return before taking a sip of the coffee Grace had just handed him. She and John made some small talk while Nathan continued to stare into space, occasionally nodding to acknowledge something one of them had said. As things became increasingly awkward, John made his excuses and ushered Nathan out of the front door.