When she reached Old Street she paused, gazing off towards the station in the distance. A group of laughing teenage girls clattered past her in high heels, followed by a drunken man weaving along in the gutter behind them, clutching a can of cider. A cool breeze picked up. Across the road was the narrow side street that led to Hoxton Square. She hadn’t been back to her flat for days and she suddenly longed to go home: to the quiet and privacy of her own space, to be surrounded by her own things, to take a shower and make a cup of tea and take stock of everything that had happened without feeling she was encroaching on anyone else, hospitable as Mac was. And what if Luke had come back while she’d been away? What if he had phoned or written or left a message? Before she knew it, she found herself crossing the road at a run.

It was gone eight now, the square’s bars and restaurants busy, straggles of people standing around outside them smoking and chatting in the cool spring air. When she reached her building she glanced up at its three rows of windows and paused. Only the first floor showed signs of life; electric light shining through the gaps in the curtains, the shadow of a figure crossing the room. The Japanese couple who lived on the floor below her, she thought. Her own floor, and that of the flat above – Alison? Had that been her name? – was in darkness. Perhaps she would just go up to collect some more clothes, she told herself. Have a quick check round to make sure all was well. It would only take a few minutes, after all.

As she climbed the stairs and passed the first-floor flat, she heard the noise of a TV, of the scraping of cutlery and a toilet flushing from within; comforting, ordinary sounds that eased her nervousness. When she reached the second set of stairs she hit the light switch on the wall, but the hall and stairwell remained in darkness and she swore under her breath. Holding her key in her hand she ran up the next flight and felt around for that floor’s switch, but it, too, gave no response when she pushed it. She shivered, mentally cursing her landlord, and glanced quickly up the stairs to Alison’s flat, but all was quiet. Perhaps she was still away, she thought. When Clara reached her own door she pulled out her mobile and used its light to guide her to the keyhole.