He got up off the chair with difficulty like a wretched old man, tugged up the jeans and nearly fell down again because his legs were so stiff. I stood at a distance and watched him as he righted himself. The expression on his face was hard to read. I had thought that maybe he would take a run and try to belt me one, but he didn’t. I threw him an old T-shirt in place of the rag that was hanging off him, and he put it on, and then found his coat. Phyllis’s bra lay, appallingly, on the floor. The whole thing felt embarrassing, like the morning after a costume party in which everyone present was out of their nut on drugs.

‘So that’s it, then?’ he said.

‘Aye.’

I walked beside him to the foot of the darkened stairwell. When he finally reached the stairs he groped for the rusted handrail, still disoriented, taking a moment to steady himself. As I watched him I imagined that he understood now that this incident had evened up the score, that after this we could leave each other alone.

‘Remember what I said,’ I murmured again, waiting for him to go.

At that he wheeled around sharply, as though some fresh energy had suddenly surged in him, and lunged for my neck. His hands clamped tightly round my throat, pressing hard, and I began fighting to breathe. There was a shocking amount of force just in his fingers and though my own hands quickly came flailing up to prise them off he held his grip. As my field of vision started shrinking and blackening I thought dumbly ‘so this is it now this is how it ends’ and for a fragment of a second I was furious and then despairing at having fallen so stupidly into my own trap.

Then he let go just as rapidly. The assault had established what he needed to know: during it, I hadn’t reached for my gun. While I was still gasping for shreds of air he brought his face closer to mine, stinking of sweat and beer, and said with a small smile I didn’t like, ‘Watch out for yourself, Jacky. Sure I’ll be keeping a good lookout for you.’

He began walking slowly and jerkily up the stairs. On the fifth step he turned round with a sarcastic grimace of mock-terror and added ‘you, and your wee gun’ – and then carried on.