The tears have gone, and she’s looking at him as though he’s something she found under a rock.

‘Tim wrecked everything for me, so I want compensation. I know Tim can’t afford it, but you can.’

‘For Christ’s sake. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

She cocks her head to one side and smiles. ‘Nick,’ she says with mock sympathy, ‘I only have to tell the police what Izzy told me.’

‘No one will believe you.’

‘It doesn’t matter if they do or not, does it? You’ll still lose everything. You and your father are going to pay for what you did to my family.’

He was already paying, wasn’t he? The guilt eating away at him. Spoiling his life. ‘You’re deluded. It’s blackmail.’

‘No, Nick. It’s revenge. But go to the police if you like; draw attention to yourself. How would you like to be told you’re not allowed in the room with Lottie without another adult present? How would you like Grace to start wondering if her daughter is safe with you? No smoke without a fire. What about Lottie’s real dad? I don’t suppose he’d be too happy.’

He’s appalled by the picture she paints, and for the first time he feels real fear. What she’s suggesting is outrageous, but entirely possible in these suspicious times. Toffee tugs on his lead.

‘What is it you want?’

‘Twenty thousand pounds immediately, and a standing order of a thousand pounds a month paid into my bank account.’

He listens to all this with his mouth gaping. ‘I don’t know how you can live with yourself, Taisie.’

‘Anna. And I could say the same for you.’ She stalks off.

When she’s gone, he breathes out and walks in the opposite direction fast. Then he remembers the milk and hurries back for it, scooping the dog into his arms instead of tying him up because Toffee is trembling, alarmed by his master’s anxiety, his rescue-dog insecurities resurfacing.

It’s dark now, and cold. He wants Grace; he wants her so badly his throat aches. It’s not the money, although frankly he has more than enough strains on his wallet, so much as the memory of that summer that kills him. Izzy’s tragedy and his own nightmare. It crippled him emotionally, sucked all the confidence out of him, brought him to his knees, so that when the black clouds descended he had no defence, was unable to control what happened. He lived in darkness, breathing in the fuggy smell of his own unwashed body for months. Only when her family left London did he emerge, blinking, into the light.