‘Hmm.’ He shut the window now; not before I saw it overlooked that new neighbour guy’s garages.

‘Is that thingy’s place? Bill? His garages are huge!’

‘Aye. He’s worried the new roof is leaking. How’ve you been?’

‘Good thanks,’ I lied, noting absently the room didn’t smell of smoke. ‘I saw you, you know.’ It was out before I could reconsider.

‘Did you now?’ He raised a lazy eyebrow.

‘Being dropped off.’ I sounded like a curtain-twitcher. Or a stalker. Both were bad. ‘Couldn’t sleep one night – you know how it is.’

‘Dropped off?’ He shook his head.

‘By that little woman.’ This was coming out all wrong. ‘By – Rebekah, is it? Pink car.’

‘Aye, I work for her husband too; he co-owns Dream Homes. Big property developer. Was going over plans in the office, late.’

‘Oh, I see.’ I felt strangely placated. ‘Right, well. If you’re all done and you’re sure you don’t have a fag, then…’ I pointed at the loo.

‘Sure.’ His expression was deadpan. ‘Wouldn’t want you having to use the shrubbery again.’

‘Funny.’ But I half-smiled, despite myself. He was wearing faded old jeans and a red tartan shirt, and I thought—

Oh, I don’t know what I thought. I wanted him to leave, so I could get on with what I was so itching to do – and yet.

As he passed me, he paused for a second, as if he was about to say something – and then he peered down at my face.

‘What’s that?’ He frowned.

‘What?’ I edged away from him, but there was nowhere much to go.

‘That.’ He pointed, reached for the light switch.

‘Don’t, please.’ I kept my tone even, pulling his arm back from the switch. ‘I’m not looking my best. Been a long day.’

‘But I can see.’ He put his hand out.

I flinched away, panic flaring.

‘Hey.’ Frowning, he touched my chin lightly. ‘I’m not going to—’

‘Must check my lipstick.’ Forcing a laugh, I ducked out of his grip.

‘It’s just – your eye.’

‘What about it?’ Don’t be kind, I muttered internally. Just go.

‘Mel – Melanie, is it?’

‘Mel-issa.’ In front of the ornate mirror, I could barely see myself; I could barely see anything. ‘I’m fine, thanks. So, please, if you’re done.’

‘OK.’ He shrugged.

‘Only – sorry’ – I shot round him and opened the door an inch, to peer into the dark bedroom – ‘could you just be… my husband, he’s downstairs and…’ I forced the laugh again. ‘It might look a little odd, you know – if—’

‘If your man there catches me coming out?’ In the gloom, he held my eye, and now I didn’t flinch. ‘I’ll be careful. And you’ – he turned, hand on the door – ‘you be careful too, yeah?’ He went, and I saw that the thing he’d slipped into his back pocket was a screwdriver.

And I knew that he knew that I was lying about my face.