For the first second all I see is a scrawny little bollix in the kitchen doorway, shiny blue tracksuit, hands up above his head, I think some dumbfuck junkie has picked the wrong house to rob and the trigger is a cool perfect fit to my finger and I can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t pull it. Then he says, ‘You need a better alarm system.’

‘Fleas,’ I say. I laugh out loud; if I was the hugging type, I’d hug him. ‘You little fuck. You almost gave me a heart attack. You couldn’t have just e-mailed me back, no?’

‘This is safer. And anyway, too long no see.’ Fleas has a grin the size of a dinner plate on his face. I can feel the matching one on me.

‘How is this safer? I nearly shot you, you know that?’ I holster up. I’m light-headed with the adrenaline spike. ‘Jesus Christ.’

‘I wasn’t worried. I’ve got faith in you.’ Fleas heads back into the kitchen. ‘Will I make you a cup of coffee?’

‘Yeah. Go on.’ I follow him and give him a smack across the back of the head, not too hard. ‘Don’t you ever do that to me again. If I’m gonna kill someone, I don’t want it to be you.’

‘Ahh!’ Fleas rubs his head, looking injured. ‘I wasn’t trying to freak you out. I would’ve waited in the sitting room, only I thought you might bring some fella home with you.’

‘Yeah, right. Chance would be a fine thing.’ I still have that grin on; I can’t get rid of it. ‘You hungry?’

‘You’re out of everything. I looked.’

‘Cheeky bastard. There’s fish fingers in the freezer; you want a fish-finger sandwich?’

‘Deadly,’ Fleas says happily, and starts pushing buttons on the coffee machine. ‘Loving this yoke. I might get one of my own.’

‘If mine goes missing, I’m coming after you.’ I turn on the cooker and pull open the freezer. Fleas leans his elbows on the counter and watches the machine spew coffee like he’s fascinated by it.

Fleas is a little runt who looks like his ma didn’t drink enough milk when she was having him, which given the block of flats he’s from is probably true. He got the nickname in training college – he was in my year – because he can’t stand still; even waiting for the coffee machine, he’s bouncing from foot to foot like he’s itchy. The two of us got on, back in training. I wasn’t there to make bosom buddies, and I didn’t need morons saying I was shagging a guy into looking after me; but if it hadn’t been for all that, we would have been friends.