Nick ordered a chicken box, with three types of salad, and a juice made with carrot and apples. That was strange, because I knew he made Suzi pack him a lunch every day. Often she forgot, and had to race from bed while he was in the shower, going down to the cold kitchen with her bare feet and heavy belly. He must have been throwing the lunches away. His bill was twelve pounds, and then the woman in front of me was served (skinny cold-brew coffee), and suddenly the boy behind the counter was staring at me.

‘Can I help you?’

Nick was right nearby, looking at his phone as he waited for his order. I couldn’t speak. I waved a hand to indicate I hadn’t decided yet, and stepped back, behind him. Nick didn’t glance up, and from this angle I was able to see his phone. Camera footage – it looked like a home security feed.

With a shock so great I almost knocked the cold-brew woman flying, I saw that he was looking at video of his house. Suzi’s office. A little box in the corner said ‘live’.

‘Order for Nick?’ said the girl behind the counter, heart-breakingly young, with clear brown skin and dark curls.

Nick stepped forward, leaving his phone for a second on the high table he’d been standing by. He exchanged a few words with the girl – flirty, I thought, in passing – then moved over to the cutlery and napkin counter. I had seconds.

‘There you are!’ A woman had come into the café and greeted Nick. My first distracted thought was that she looked like Suzi, pale red hair and white skin, wearing a trench coat. ‘You ran off without me.’

‘Thought you were still in the budget meeting. How was it?’

‘Oh God, hellish . . .’

As they chatted, and his gaze was fixed on her, my fingers grazed the metal edge of his phone. Such a small rectangle, but it would tell me everything I needed to know about him. I glanced up – Nick was nodding at something the woman had said, holding wooden cutlery in one hand.

Heart hammering, I slipped the phone into the deep pocket of my coat, and exited the café, sucking in cold air. They’d have cameras, probably. I might get caught, arrested even. Though of course it wouldn’t be the first time.