When I get back to the flat I hear the shower running. Connor must have decided to work from home rather than go into the office. I slump down on the sofa, the euphoria of the house viewing still making me tingle. I’m about to get up and make a coffee when I hear a beep. I look down and see Connor’s phone on the coffee table in front of me. Its screen is lit up and I can’t help but see the text message displayed.

From: Sara

Sterling work, darling! Loads of love xxx

Just then Connor comes into the room. His hair is wet and he’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants.

‘How was Georgie?’ he says, sitting next to me. ‘Nice lunch?’

‘Yeah, it was lovely,’ I say, any guilt I was feeling about lying to him over where I’d been now cancelled out by the arrival of that message. ‘Your phone was beeping.’

‘Ah,’ he says, reaching out to pick it up.

I watch him as he reads it, though his face remains expressionless. He places the phone back on the table then jumps to his feet.

‘Fancy a coffee?’ he says, heading for the kitchen.

‘Er, who is Sara?’ I say, following him out of the room.

He turns and looks at me, shaking his head.

‘Sara is my work colleague. She’s the senior art director, been there for donkey’s years. And she’s gay. Christ, she calls everyone “darling”.’

He laughs dismissively and heads into the kitchen.

‘Right, let’s have a STRONG coffee, shall we?’

Later that evening, I lie in bed feeling deflated. Connor spent the whole evening working while I sat by myself on the roof terrace drinking wine. Eventually, I gave up and went to bed. When Connor came in I pretended to be asleep but now, as he lies snoring beside me, no sleep will come. I feel prickly and on edge.

I need a distraction.

I take my phone from the side table and tiptoe out of the room. Then, sitting on the sofa, I click on the Dream Properties app. The sight of all those beautiful houses soothes me as the hours tick away. And then I see it: an Edwardian Arts and Crafts house in Bishop’s Stortford. I can feel the adrenaline returning, the same buzz I got when I saw Rosedale Manor advertised. This feeling is better than drugs or alcohol. It is pure euphoria.

‘This will be the last time,’ I whisper to myself as I type another fake name into the booking form, ‘then no more. I promise.’

13. Now