He looked for a reaction but could not see one. It was perfect. He was released.

‘Griff’s in his seventies,’ he said. ‘When he goes, you’ll get something like – I don’t know, millions, right?’

He noticed she was breathing more quickly. Her lips were parted.

‘I’ve heard about this stuff. I bet he’s got money in trust for you already. Is there money I don’t know about?’

She nodded.

‘OK. So am I meant to not think about it? How can I?’

She didn’t say anything, or move.

‘When we were first together,’ he said, ‘you told me about your family, you were like, They’re pretty well off – yeah, I think well-off was the word you used. You didn’t say My dad has a few hundred million in the bank –’

She trapped her lips between her teeth to stop herself correcting him. It made him smile.

‘Just stay blind a little longer, babe.’

Free from her gaze, he moved towards her. She waited, silently, for what he would do next, what he would say, breathing through her nose, her T-shirt rising and falling with her breath. Blind and dumb, she had made herself voiceless, just for him. It shouldn’t have excited him, but it did.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Listen. Every day, every time I, like, get a text I’ve gone overdrawn, or when I don’t hit my target at work, there’s this thing I get – in my head – I think, Bea’s dad has money. Then I feel guilty. And I stop myself. But I wonder, What is it, really, that’s stopping us getting some help? You didn’t kick up about my dad’s money for us, not at all. And he wasn’t even a father to me. I met the guy, like, five times in my life, and I don’t even remember. You know how that’s messed me up, but you were happy to take that twenty-five grand of adulterer’s cash, we even laughed about it.’

‘Maybe I should do blindfolded sessions,’ she said, behind her hands. ‘It works.’

Holding up her arms had raised her T-shirt from her legs. He touched her knee and she jumped.

‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘I didn’t see you coming.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Before. About my parents dying.’

‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I’m going to touch you,’ he said, to warn her.

He put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her backwards, slowly, until he was kneeling between her legs. He lowered himself onto her, his face tucked between her cheek and the sofa. Her hair touched his lips.

‘When they’re dead, you’ll have it anyway,’ he said in her ear. ‘So can you tell me – what are we doing?’

Her voice was constrained by his weight. ‘What do you mean?’