‘And if you thought that was a bad joke,’ Marcus deadpanned, ‘wait till you see this.’ He moonwalked towards the till.

My laugh was incredulous. Cringey, perhaps, but I was filled with a sudden exhilaration.

‘Would you believe I’ve had no formal dance training?’ He pointed to his sweatshirted chest, and I noticed his sleek running gear for the first time.

The exhilaration of still being alive. ‘Just about.’ I moved towards the till myself now, conscious I hadn’t brushed my hair since – when? Since before I’d gone round to his for the ‘kitchen supper’ last night. ‘I better just…’

‘Here, let me.’ Before I could protest, Marcus paid for my pint and the cut-price Toblerone, along with his expensive weird berry smoothie, and a carton of nut milk. ‘I thrive on being a gent – and I need practice working with the community. And actually, Ruby, you could help me out.’ He checked a shiny watch on a surprisingly smooth wrist. ‘If you’ve got twenty minutes – let me buy you a coffee?’

I was tempted.

Then I thought of the poor waitress last night: remembered him haranguing her in his kitchen. I remembered that solemn boy with the arrow, and the furious shouting I’d heard through their front door.

The fizz of exhilaration died.

‘Thanks, but I’ve got to get the milk back for Zach’s breakfast.’

‘Don’t tell me you have a teen who actually surfaces before midday?’

‘Well…’ Zach’s football training was cancelled because it was pouring, and he probably was still sleeping. ‘I was going to open the shop.’

‘Shop?’

‘Florists. Not strictly a shop, I suppose.’ It was more like a posh stall, inside the old petrol station that had been converted into pop-ups. Pipe dream – that was what it was – and one I doubted was going to last much longer.

‘How about I buy a huge bouquet when you open up again, and an amazing pastel de nata for you from next door, right now.’

‘Um…’ I had no clue what one of those pastel things was, but I couldn’t bear him to know that. ‘It’s very kind, but—’

‘Ah, go on, indulge me, sweet Ruby!’ He grabbed my hand lightly with his warm one, and I saw the edge of what looked like a tattoo on his wrist. His light eyes searched my face. ‘You’d really, really be helping me out.’

It was for Zach, I told myself, jacket hood up against the driving rain.

‘It’s apocalyptic, isn’t it?’ Marcus shouted over his shoulder as I splashed behind him. ‘After last night’s gorgeous sunset.’

‘Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ I rushed through the door he held open. ‘What’s really going on.’

‘I’ll get the coffee, you grab a seat, yeah?’ Marcus gestured at the single free table, tucked into the foggy window.

‘Thanks.’ Someone else taking charge for once was a blessed relief, to be honest. My own temperature was rising, like the steam from the coffee machine as I squeezed past a young couple and their sleeping baby.