Brody hardly noticed her. He certainly didn’t respond. Everything around him was melting into itself, simultaneously shooting away and becoming distant while feeling so close his skin crawled and he was sure he would suffocate.

He turned and started running. He ran down the aisle towards the tills but didn’t stop when he got there. He just sprinted straight through, the bottle of fish sauce still clutched in his fist, and kept going towards the natural light and fresh air of the gaping entrance.

He was almost there when a security guard spun around to watch him.

‘He didn’t pay for that!’ a voice behind him yelled.

‘Hey!’ the security guard shouted and began to pound after him.

As he ran, Brody fumbled into his back pocket and pulled out a £20 note. He threw it in the direction of the security guard. ‘Sorry!’ he yelled over his shoulder. ‘Can’t stop! Emergency.’

The perplexed guard bent down and scooped up the crumpled note, then stared after Brody. But Brody didn’t notice. He was too busy sprinting across the unforgiving tarmac of the car park, which seemed to be expanding and stretching, like distances did in nightmares when something was chasing you. All he could think about was getting back to his car, throwing himself inside and locking the door.

Chapter Twenty-One

BRODY SAT IN his armchair, staring at the fire burning in the grate and listened to Anna. When they’d first started talking, the calls had been more sporadic, but that had been close to two months ago, and in recent weeks they’d become more regular and more frequent.

‘I’ve been trying to push myself to go out of my comfort zone, be a bit more sociable. You know, just being open to things,’ she said. ‘People tell me it would be good for me.’

It seemed he and Anna had similar goals at the moment. Brody’s mind flashed back to the feeling of terror as he’d sprinted across Morrisons car park in Totnes earlier that week, and he felt his chest and face flush. He hoped she was having more success.

This evening, he’d made that stupid Thai curry, with his £20 bottle of fish sauce. It had smelled amazing while it had been cooking, but when he’d sat down at his kitchen table, bowl piled with fluffy Jasmine rice and the fragrant sauce, he’d raised his fork but hadn’t been able to take a bite. It was tainted now. The flavour would forever remind him of his failure.

Another thing to cross off his list of experiences. Another thing to avoid. It struck him that while Anna’s world was expanding, his was continuing to shrink to practically nothing.

‘How’s that going for you?’ He hadn’t meant his reply to have a cynical, slightly sarcastic edge, but it had come out like that anyway.

‘Ugh!’ was Anna’s only reply. There was a vague rustling in the background, and he imagined her sitting at the kitchen table and planting her head on its flat surface, feeling the cool of the wood against her forehead.