He remembered where he was and opened his eyes. He peered out at the garden, and straight away saw a shadowy figure move beneath him, a few feet from the Newtons’ back door. He ducked down beneath the windowsill and looked back at Kirsty.

‘There’s somebody down there,’ he whispered.

Kirsty’s mouth formed an O and she climbed out of bed and came over to the window, walking in a curious half-crouch, her arms folded over her breasts. They knelt together on the carpet, both of them naked, as if they were offering up a prayer to some nocturnal god.

Jamie stuck his head under the curtain and looked out again. He could see the person moving around. He didn’t think they would be able to see him, but then the moon came out from behind a cloud and the garden was illuminated. He ducked down again.

‘It’s Chris,’ he said.

‘Chris? What’s he doing?’

A second later, they had their answer. There came the sound of rushing water: the hiss and splash of water coming out of a hosepipe.

‘He’s watering the bloody garden!’

They collapsed together on the floor, trying not to laugh aloud. Jamie covered Kirsty’s mouth with his own to stop her laughter ringing out.

A week ago, the local council had announced a strict hosepipe ban because of the hot weather. It hadn’t rained for weeks, and reservoir supplies were running alarmingly low.

‘Should we grass him up?’ whispered Kirsty, after they had clambered back into bed. She was still trying not to laugh, not just because she found the situation funny but also because she was relieved that they weren’t about to be burgled or murdered in their bed. She couldn’t believe how silly she’d been.

‘Kirsty!’

She tutted. ‘I wasn’t being serious. It’s a bit sneaky though, isn’t it? Watering the garden under cover of darkness.’

‘Loads of people do it.’

‘Yeah. I guess you’re right. Anyway,’ she said, inching closer, giving him that look he loved so much. ‘Where were we?’

Jamie pulled her towards him. ‘Right about here.’