The door opened before she could knock, and she stepped inside to an enthusiastic greeting from Tank.

‘I brought this,’ she said, making a fuss of the dog before handing Liam the bottle of wine that she had stopped to buy. She had debated whether to bring it or not. They were meeting to talk about Mrs W, it wasn’t a date. Still, he was making her dinner and good manners told her she should bring something.

The briefest of hesitations as he accepted the bottle had her questioning herself again. Was she making this into something more than it was?

‘Thanks.’

As he took the bottle through to the kitchen, Hannah followed after him, Tank practically attached behind her, and she spotted the large paper bag on the worktop and could smell the Chinese food.

Okay, so he wasn’t actually cooking then.

‘I only just got back,’ he apologised. ‘Traffic was a bitch, so I had to compromise. Are you okay if I nip upstairs for a quick shower?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Great. Give me ten minutes.’

Left alone, Hannah found plates and cutlery, put on the oven to keep the food warm, then wandered back through to the front door, where Tank was pawing and whining, wanting to go out.

She opened the door for him and while she waited, she glanced at the table where Liam’s MacBook sat. Unlike last time she had been here, it wasn’t open, probably because he had just dumped it there after coming indoors. The pages of notes she had seen before were piled on top of it and curiosity had her itching to go and have a look.

She couldn’t. It would be an invasion of his privacy, even if the subject matter he was writing about did involve her.

Of course, if she was setting the table and happened to glance at the top page…

No, she shouldn’t.

Tank came bounding back in at that moment and she was grateful for the distraction. She wasn’t a snoop, knew only too well from her past that prying into other people’s business never ended well. Instead she indulged the fluffy hound with an ear rub, before following him through to the kitchen, noting his bowl was empty. Clean too, which suggested Liam hadn’t yet had time to feed him.

As if to emphasise that point, Tank plonked himself down next to the bowl and looked at her expectantly, his big pink tongue hanging.

‘You’re going to get me in trouble,’ she mock grumbled to him, picking up the bowl and hunting for his food. She found a half-used tin of dog meat in the fridge and a bag of dry food in the cupboard under the sink, guesstimating what she thought Liam would feed him.

Tank whined as she put the bowl down, tucking in straightaway.