Her father sat mutely, his expression polite, as Kenneth rattled on about the latest scandal involving Princess Margaret. He was obsessed by the monarchy. His flat, Connie knew, was stuffed with mementos: plates and teapots, biscuit tins and sugar bowls, thimbles and pillboxes, emblazoned with the crown.

She bent to kiss her father and he patted her hand: patience, his touch said; Kenneth would be gone soon. Connie knew he disliked Kenneth and so did she. He reminded her of a reptile, with his thin body and thin-lipped smile, although he’d been generous enough, waiving the rent. She couldn’t complain about that. So she smiled at her father and squeezed his arm, but when she straightened, she spotted a green and orange jacket draped across the sofa and her smile dropped.

Victor appeared in the doorway with his shirtsleeves rolled up and three whisky glasses bunched in his hands. His hair was slicked as usual and she caught the cloying smell of his hair cream mixed with aftershave.

‘Connie,’ he said, grinning. ‘Fancy a nip?’ He put the glasses on the table, pulled out a hip flask and sploshed a measure into each. ‘Puts hairs on your chest.’

She looked at her father.

‘We’re celebrating,’ he said sheepishly. She knew he would be hating every second of this visit but at the same time would consider he had no choice.

‘To our new tenant,’ said Kenneth, taking and holding up his glass. ‘Victor.’

‘Tenant?’ said Connie. ‘Why? Who’s leaving?’

‘Nobody,’ he replied. ‘The basement needs filling. The rent will rise if it isn’t, and since Victor here has misbehaved and been turfed out of his place . . .’

‘I didn’t misbehave,’ Victor protested, tossing back his whisky and refilling his glass. ‘I had a slight disagreement with the landlady.’

‘You mean the landlady’s daughter,’ said Kenneth, grinning.

Connie glanced at her father again who made an apologetic face.

Victor grimaced and shrugged.

‘Scarpered then,’ said Kenneth, raising his glass. ‘Since Victor has scarpered . . . and finds himself without a home, it seems he’s the ideal candidate. Here’s to getting away with it!’

The men drank while Connie absorbed the news. She had managed to avoid Victor since he had propositioned her in the shop. It wouldn’t be as easy if he lived two floors down.

She walked towards the kitchen, feeling the men’s eyes on her. Kenneth’s stare she didn’t mind so much. He watched everyone, storing the details. Victor’s gaze, though, made her shudder. Luckily, he was still focusing on Kenneth contradicting him about what had happened with his landlady. The two of them bickered constantly.

Three dirty mugs stood in the sink and the tea strainer had been left on the side. She cleared away, burying her annoyance. The milk had been left out too and when she gave it a sniff her stomach heaved. Was it on the turn, or was it another sign? Opening the window, she took a breath.