Kirsty hadn’t mentioned moving out again, either. Jamie got the feeling she had adopted a policy of ‘wait and see’. He knew she didn’t entirely trust this current state of peace, but as the days passed, and the baby inside her grew, and the Newtons’ campaign of terror failed to start up again, she relaxed too. She was four months gone now, almost halfway. They bought a cot and a couple of mobiles to hang up in the child’s room. When he had finished working in there, they went through lists of names together.

Heather came round some evenings. At first she had been maudlin and lovelorn, but now she seemed to be recovering. She insisted that she hadn’t slept with Paul on his last night, although both Jamie and Kirsty were sure she was lying. She insisted on reading Paul’s emails and got a bit upset when she read he was seeing someone else – but not too upset.

Christmas wasn’t a million miles away. Their first Christmas in the flat; their last Christmas when it would be just the two of them. They decided that they wouldn’t see anybody on Christmas day – no family squabbles, no arguments about Kirsty’s vegetarianism, which happened every year when the turkey was carved, as predictable and boring as the Queen’s Speech. No, this year, they would buy each other loads of presents, eat a ton of chocolate and spend the day in bed. Total bliss.

Three weeks became four. Still no threats or complaints. Jamie allowed himself to breathe a huge, huge sigh of relief. It seemed that the worst was over.

It was a mild Sunday; a warm island in the arctic sea of winter. Jamie got up, got dressed and went out to buy a paper. When he opened the front door he saw Chris coming up the steps.

He didn’t know what to do. Although it was true they hadn’t had any trouble from the Newtons lately, they hadn’t spoken to them either. A ceasefire existed between them, but not friendship. At that moment, Jamie remembered the letter he had sent to the previous occupants of the flat. He hadn’t received a reply. In a way, he was glad. He wanted to forget all the shit that had happened.

Both men paused.

‘Alright,’ said Chris.

‘Hi,’ said Jamie.

‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’

‘Gorgeous.’

They fell silent. Jamie felt uncomfortable. He wanted to go, but he didn’t want to appear rude. With surprise, he realised he was afraid of upsetting Chris.

Chris broke the silence. ‘Have you heard from Paul?’

‘I’ve had some emails. He’s in Ibiza, having a great time by the sound of it.’

‘That’s good.’

More silence.

Chris again: ‘I’ve noticed that your front door’s started sticking again. And making this bloody awful squeaking sound.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Want me to take a look at it for you?’