With that image, the feeling of being watched returned once again.

He couldn’t quite work it out, yet the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he stepped out of his car, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. On the empty street, darkness staring back at him from every corner, he couldn’t help but feel that someone was out there. Hidden in the shadows.

Mark decided to take a walk.

He made his way down the street, slowly, methodically, eyes scanning the area. Listening for any noise, like the one from the previous night. Each step made him a little more anxious, as if he was going towards the danger, rather than away from it.

Which was his job, he supposed.

He walked the length of the street and back again, hearing and seeing nothing. The feeling remained, but he shook it off and eventually made his way up the path to his house. Let himself inside, gave it a few seconds, then called Natasha.

She arrived twenty minutes later.

He sat down next to her on the sofa, muting the television in the corner. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘Yeah, was starving when I got home from work,’ Natasha replied, running her hands through her hair and sitting back further into the sofa. ‘Couldn’t wait for you to finish. Wasn’t sure if you’d be calling. Still busy?’

‘Yeah,’ Mark said, grimacing at the thought of having to go back there again the next day. ‘You didn’t have to come round if you were tired or something.’

‘I know, but I’d rather be here than at home on my own,’ Natasha said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not expecting us to move in together after so short a time. But don’t you think this has been… easy? None of the weird awkwardness that’s usually there at the start of relationships?’

‘No, I guess not. Just let me know if things are moving too fast though. I don’t want you thinking I expect you to come round at the drop of a hat if you don’t want to.’

‘You’re sweet for someone who obviously doesn’t have any problem getting people to “come round”.’

‘That’s not true…’

‘You keep saying that,’ Natasha said, turning to him and lifting her feet onto the sofa. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Let’s just say when I was younger, I looked a lot different.’

‘How so?’

Mark sighed. ‘I was a heavy teenager. Acne, sweaty, the lot. You wouldn’t have looked twice at me.’

‘How do you know that?’