‘Oh, um, thanks.’ Anya shrugged out of it and passed it to Claire, who hung it on a coat stand in the hall. For a second, they both stood facing one another and Anya was about to try asking something else, when, mercifully, Claire got down to business.

‘Shall I show you the room, then?’ She turned, without waiting for Anya’s response, and started heading up a looping staircase. Anya followed in her wake.

On the landing, they stopped in front of a closed door, which Claire started to unlock. Anya felt a shiver of unease.

‘Recently, Richard’s been using it as a glorified filing cabinet –’ Claire sniffed – ‘but I’ll have him move his papers to his office before you move in.’

The room was empty, besides three big boxes of the aforementioned papers, a desk and a small lamp. There was a sash window framed by some heavy green velvet curtains, which looked on to the street below. The carpet – also green – was thick with dust.

‘Is there a … bed?’

‘No. You’ll have to get one.’ Claire examined one corner of the room. ‘I’m sure a single would fit in that corner.’ She waved dismissively.

A single bed for a single Anya.

‘I can do you £300 a month.’ Claire was standing in the doorway now and Anya took her cue to hurry out. ‘And I’m sure Richard could drive you to IKEA to get a bed.’

Anya imagined a drive, alone, with Richard.

‘Oh God, no, no, I couldn’t ask him to do that. He must be so busy. I’ll get Paddy to take me – he loves Braehead anyway.’

Claire pursed her lips, possibly at the utterance of Paddy’s name. ‘Alright then.’ She locked the door. ‘You can move in as soon as you need to. You’ve seen the rest of the house, haven’t you?’

Anya had not seen the rest of the house, but sensed that to point this out would draw attention to the fact that she and Claire didn’t spend a lot of time together.

‘Aye, yeah, a few times. Lovely place.’ She’d work it out when she moved in.

‘Thank you,’ Claire said crisply.

They were descending the curving staircase now, and Anya had the strange, creeping feeling she was being watched. She was correct: Richard was standing at the foot of the stairway, in the front hall. His hair had receded further since she’d seen him last.

‘Hi, housemate!’ Anya tried gamely.

‘Claire, we need to get the broadband looked at. It’s been terminal this afternoon.’ A deep breath, and a flicker of recognition. ‘Hi, Anya.’