Half-an-hour later the six of them were seated around the table. They made smalltalk and everyone complimented Kirsty on the food; there was a brief discussion about vegetarianism, Kirsty fending off the usual questions about whether she ate fish or chicken; the wine and conversation might not have flowed easily, but it was steady and there were no awkward silences. Kirsty started to relax, and, seeing her do so, Jamie winked at her across the table. He touched her foot gently with his.

Lucy told them about her job – about the old people and their peculiar habits, including the old lady who wrote phrases like ‘Piss off’ on pieces of card and flashed them at the other residents if they annoyed her (a kind of non-verbal Tourette’s Syndrome) – and Paul asked Chris what he did for a living.

‘I work for Scion Systems, the computer company.’

‘Oh right,’ said Jamie. ‘I saw the Scion logo on your T-shirt when you were gardening.’

‘Jamie’s in computing too,’ said Kirsty.

‘I work for ETN,’ he confirmed.

Lucy beamed. ‘That’s amazing. We girls are both in healthcare–’

‘And me,’ said Heather.

‘–and the boys work with computers. We’re such kindred spirits. Amazing.’ She had already drunk a couple of large glasses of red wine and Jamie noticed with amusement that there was a slight slur to her words.

‘I’m the odd one out,’ said Paul, ‘being a mere banker.’ Paul worked for one of the High Street banks, a job he hated.

Heather leaned across the table and lightly pinched his cheek. ‘You’re always the odd one.’

Paul blushed.

‘Even the woman upstairs is in health,’ Jamie said.

‘What, Mary?’ said Lucy, putting down her wine glass. ‘I’d hardly call what she does health.’

‘What does she do?’ asked Heather, who hadn’t come across Mary before.

Jamie said, ‘She’s a herbalist.’

‘Is that what she calls it?’ said Lucy. ‘I’d describe her as a witch.’

Chris nudged her. ‘Lucy…’

But all eyes were fixed on Lucy now. Jamie laughed and said, ‘A witch? But her cat isn’t even black.’

Lucy wasn’t laughing. ‘It’s not funny, Jamie. There’s something about her I don’t like. She gives me the creeps. I’d hate to know what kind of things she gets up to all alone in their flat. She gets some very strange-looking mail, from people like the Pagan Society, and the Society of Wiccans.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I’ve seen it. Our post often gets delivered through the communal front door, even though we have our own letter box, so I have to come up and check. I’ve seen Mary’s letters. And I’ve also seen the way she looks at me. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s up there right now, carrying out some sort of black magic ritual. Pulling the legs off spiders as she chants a spell.’