‘Stupid bitch,’ she said aloud in a sing-song voice, repeating the phrase until the words lost their meaning.

Stupidbitchstupidbitch …

No no no no no no …

The mason’s dream …

Flip Balfour … Gandalf … Ranald Marr …

Grant Hood.

Stupidbitchstupidbitch …

She was over by the window when the track ended. In the momentary silence, she heard a car turning into the end of her street, and instinct told her who it was. She ran to the lamp and stamped down on the floor-switch, plunging the room into darkness. There was a light on in her hallway, but she doubted it could be seen from outside. She was afraid to move, afraid she would cast a telltale shadow. The car had stopped. The next track was playing. She reached down for the remote and used it to turn off the CD player. Now she could hear the car idling. Her heart was pounding.

Then the door buzzer, telling her someone was outside and wanting in. She waited, didn’t move. Her fingers were so tight around the glass that they began to cramp. She changed hands. The buzzer again.

No no no no …

Just leave it, Grant. Get in the Alfa and go home. Tomorrow we can start pretending it never happened.

Bzzzz bzzzz zzzz …

She began to hum softly to herself, a tune she was making up. Not even a tune really; just sounds to compete with the buzzer and the blood singing in her ears.

She heard a car door close, relaxed a little. Nearly dropped the glass when her phone started ringing.

She could see it by the light of the streetlamp. It was lying on the floor by the sofa. Six rings and the answering machine would kick in. Two … three … four …

Maybe the Farmer!

‘Hello?’ She slumped on to the sofa, phone to her ear.

‘Siobhan? It’s Grant.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’ve just been ringing your doorbell.’

‘Mustn’t be working. What can I do for you?’

‘Letting me in would be a start.’

‘I’m tired, Grant. Just going to bed.’

‘Five minutes, Siobhan.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Oh.’ The silence was like a third party, some huge, humourless friend only one of them had invited.

‘Just go home, eh? I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘That might be too late for the Quizmaster.’

‘Oh, you’re here to talk about work?’ She slid her free hand up her body, tucking it beneath the arm holding the phone.

‘Not exactly,’ he admitted.

‘No, I didn’t think so. Look, Grant, let’s call it a moment of madness, eh? I think I can live with that.’

‘That’s what you think it was?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘What are you scared of, Siobhan?’

‘How do you mean?’ Her voice hardening.

A short silence before he relented, telling her: ‘Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. Sorry.’

‘I’ll see you in the office then.’

‘Right.’