All day he had been haunted by a creeping sense of unease. Last night, they had written and delivered the letter to Lucy and Chris. Writing the letter had made him feel better, but after he’d got to work this morning he’d started to worry about what their response would be. Mike, the guy who sat opposite him at work, had asked him if he was alright, commenting that he seemed really spaced out, and Jamie had snapped at him, told him to mind his own business, feeling immediately remorseful. It was so rare for him to feel like this – he was usually so relaxed and easy-going. But he wanted today over with. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day.

‘Hiya darling,’ said Kirsty, when they met outside the main entrance. He was so pleased to see her he almost burst into tears.

‘Are you alright? You look–’

He nodded quickly. ‘I just want to get home.’

‘OK.’

Kirsty took the wheel because Jamie didn’t feel in the mood to tackle the traffic. He couldn’t even stand listening to the radio. The news gave him a headache so he turned it off and they drove home in silence, Jamie resting his head against the window, gazing out at the city streets.

Litter twisted and turned as it danced along the pavement from the high street McDonalds. A group of boys stood on the corner outside the off-license, trying to persuade passers-by to go in to buy them some beer, hurling abuse after everyone who said no. A young Asian woman in a business suit stood at a bus stop, studying her reflection in the sheen of the glass that covered an advert for health insurance, reapplying her lipstick. A fat man stood close by with a Staffordshire bull terrier on a lead. The dog shivered as it pushed out a large turd, then the man produced a plastic bag and a scoop, cleaning up after his pet before hurrying away. Somewhere up ahead, a police car’s siren wailed histrionically before stopping dead. This evening, the city seemed tawdry and sad. Jamie heard himself sigh. Kirsty touched his leg.

‘Do you want to pick up a Chinese on the way home?’

‘I’m not really hungry.’

‘Suit yourself.’

He stretched out a hand and stroked her soft hair. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just, I don’t know – I feel really down today.’

‘Was it seeing Paul?’

‘No, not really. In fact, seeing Paul made me feel slightly better, in a strange way. I guess I’ve been worrying about Lucy and Chris. I’ve got this horrible feeling that we’re going to arrive home and find our windows smashed.’

‘You are silly.’

‘I know. But what if we don’t get any response at all?’

‘Oh I think we will.’