They went down the stairs in silence, but Irene could almost feel the weight of something the man wanted to say. She felt a strange sympathy for him. He was clearly the sort of man who left all the real communication to the woman in his life and was at sea, having to deal with her. When they reached the front door, she wanted to reassure him that she understood he hadn’t meant to seem brisk. She opened her mouth to speak just as he said, ‘Look, there is the matter of the bill.’

Embarrassment blazed across her cheeks. She had entirely forgotten that the dusty little room must be paid for. How silly of her.

She fumbled for her purse in a flurry of apologies and the man made a great deal of hunting for a card payment device, when she produced a bank card. The transaction wouldn’t go through at first and Irene feared she might go mad in this small, dark hallway, with this fussy, unsympathetic man.

Irene turned her head to the window as Frank started the engine and he must have sensed she didn’t want to talk. They drove in silence for a few moments. Irene wanted to be in her own home now, alone, more than anything else in the world.

But that couldn’t happen yet.

‘Frank,’ she said, breaking the silence, ‘I don’t want to treat you like a taxi driver, but could I impose on your kindness for one more thing?’

‘Of course,’ he said, turning to look at her.

‘Can we go to one more address?’

ELLIOTT

I knew it was going to be hard not confiding in Zoe about five minutes after I got to her flat. She let me in with a wry expression and a greeting of ‘Hello, you massive skiver.’

There was no sign of Tabitha, which was a relief because I didn’t feel like making conversation with someone I didn’t know. I walked into the living room, where the television was showing an episode of Love Island, and sat down on the low, squashy sofa that had a tasselled African print throw over it. A book by Kamila Shamsie that Anya had been pressing me to read for ages lay face down on the table. The air smelled pleasantly of something garlicky. I let out an involuntary sigh as the sofa absorbed my weight and felt as though I were breathing properly for the first time today.

All I’d said to Zoe was that I needed a night away from home – just one night – and she hadn’t asked any more questions.

But now, as she emerged from the kitchen holding two bottles of Asahi beer, she had an expression that was going to brook no excuses.

‘Here,’ she said, handing me a bottle. ‘So … trouble in paradise then?’