She’d liked to have been able to say ‘very nice’ or something somewhat appreciative of the space she found herself in but there was nothing she could say about the poky bedsit. A single bed stretched across one wall, a cheap pine table and a single chair filling the space between it and the tiny kitchen. Pity swept over her, unbidden, she didn’t want to feel sorry for him but the one chair told a sad tale of lonely meals for one.

Apart from the entrance, there was only one other door – she assumed it led to an equally small bathroom.

‘Have a seat.’ Victor pointed to the chair. ‘Would you like a drink? I have a very nice whisky.’

The metal chair squeaked as she sat on the edge, tension keeping her upright. ‘This isn’t a social call, Victor. Tell me what you want to tell me and I’ll be on my way.’ It took effort to keep the tremble from her voice, her words coming out harsh and cold as a result.

‘No ramble down memory lane then,’ he said. He perched on the side of the bed. ‘As you wish.’ He stared at her silently. ‘You’ve barely changed, my dear. You still look as beautiful as you did when we were… together.’

Jodie shivered at the hint of lust in his words and looked towards the door. Nobody knew where she was. This had been one of her worst ideas. She took a nervous step towards it, her head jerking back when Victor got to his feet.

‘Am I making you uneasy?’ he asked with a twist of his mouth. ‘I never used to.’

She stepped back, folded her arms, and looked at him coldly. ‘That was a long time ago. I was a child, easily swayed.’ She watched as he dragged a scruffy case from under the bed.

‘I kept it safe for you,’ Victor said, sitting back on the bed. ‘It wouldn’t do if my proof went missing, would it?’ He kept his eyes on her as he opened the case, each clasp releasing with a loud snap. His grin grew wider and it was clear to Jodie he was relishing the drama of it all, enjoying her undivided attention… the way he always used to.

She was fixated by the battered case and fascinated by his long fingers as they opened it. He was watching her, as she was watching him, a weird tableau out of time.

Victor reached into the case without taking his eyes from her. ‘Here it is.’ He pulled out a small photograph. ‘Are you sure you want to see it?’

Of course, she didn’t… and did. ‘I’m not playing games, Victor. If there’s something you want to tell me and to show me, then get on with it. Otherwise I’m leaving.’

‘Fair enough.’ He got to his feet and took a step towards her.