I saw Thomas punch it in the night we came back here and I gave him the flick. It wasn’t on purpose. I was texting Camilla when it happened. I’d just pressed ‘send’ and looked up at the exact moment his fingers traced the corners of a square. And so I’m being polite right now. I could easily type it in, go upstairs, lie and say a neighbour let me in and knock on his door. And I absolutely will if he doesn’t answer soon.

But wait, what’s that? Is that the intercom crackling? I stare at the speaker.

‘Hello?’ comes his voice.

That’s my cue; I use my cutest voice. ‘Hey. It’s Harper. Can I come up?’

The intercom goes silent but it’s still crackling so I know he’s still there.

‘Harper?’ he says. ‘What are you doing here?’

He sounds a lot less happy to hear from me than I was hoping for. And while I could tell him the truth – that I’m here to use him for his skill base – I suspect a better way to get in the door is flattery.

‘I just wanted to see you,’ I say. ‘To talk to you. Things ended so weirdly last time.’ My voice comes out a perfect, fragile saccharine.

‘Now’s not a good time,’ he says.

This is the problem with playing the crazy-girl card too well: they think you’re crazy.

‘Please, Thomas. I need you,’ I whine. Yes, we’re back to damsel in distress.

The intercom is scratchy and he isn’t replying. I look up to his window in case he might be watching me and I could wave but he’s not.

‘Thomas? Please. I have no one to turn to. You have no idea what’s been going on for me.’ My voice is louder now. And I’m enunciating slowly so anyone walking past, any of his neighbours coming in or out of the building, might hear me. Because Thomas is a good guy. And so the best way to get him to let me inside is to make him feel very, very bad.

‘I mean this girl I know was murdered. You might have read about her in the papers. I… I just don’t want to be alone right now… please. I’m begging you.’ I find myself throwing in a couple of fake sobs.

And then I wait.

Nothing.

Fuck.

‘Please,’ I try again, my voice a high-pitched screech.

The intercom crackles.

‘Fine,’ he says, finally. ‘Just give me a second.’

And so I stand on the pavement, waiting for the buzzer to sound so I can go up.

And then, a few moments later: Bzzzzz.