They pulled into Mount Pleasant Street and saw that the Newtons’ car was parked in its customary position. Kirsty parked and they got out and went inside. Jamie checked the post. Among the junk mail was a handwritten envelope with no stamp. It was addressed to The Ground Floor Flat.

‘This is it,’ said Jamie, feeling his throat go dry.

Kirsty took it from him and carefully unsealed the envelope. She read the letter aloud:

HOW DARE YOU complain about the noise we made when we had our barbecue. Our friends were shocked and appalled that you have described them as having raucous laughter. I can’t believe what hypocrites you are, especially as we have to endure the sound of your own shrieking and guffawing day and night. We can tell you that we will have our friends over whenever we like and will stay up as late as we like. YOU CANNOT tell us what we can and can’t do. We believe in live and let live. Why don’t you adopt the same philosophy?

Kirsty and Jamie stared at each other, dumbfounded.

‘’I’m absolutely…speechless,’ said Jamie.

‘You cannot tell us what we can and cannot do. Jesus wept. And this bit – we believe in live and let live.’

‘Do you think they’re being ironic?’

‘No, I think they mean it.’ She shook her head in disbelief.

Jamie read the letter through again, and as he did so he felt all the unhappiness and frustrations of the day stir up inside him, turning to anger, a rush of blood to his head that made his ears feel hot and his skull feel too tight around his brain. How dare they? How fucking dare they?

‘I’m going down there.’

‘Jamie…’

He ignored her and stormed out of the flat, out through the front door and down the steps. He banged on the Newtons’ door, then banged again, harder.

‘Come out here,’ he shouted. ‘I want to talk to you.’

Bang bang bang.

‘Come on out!’

When there was no reply he ran back up the steps, brushing past Kirsty and marching through the flat into the bathroom. He unbolted the back door and went down the steps from the balcony into the garden.

The second his foot touched the grass at the bottom of the steps, Lucy came out of her own back door, waving her arms angrily.

‘Get out of my garden.’

Jamie flapped the letter at her. ‘I want an explanation of this. And I want you to erase the recordings you’ve made of us. Now.’

She shook her head. ‘Get out or I’ll call the police.’

‘Go on then, and I’ll tell them how you’ve been harassing us – recording us illegally. I’d like to see you explain that to them.’

She ignored him. ‘Chris. Chris!’ she called. ‘Phone the police. Tell them we’ve got a trespasser.’