The cheeky fuck is already moving towards my sofa. ‘Great,’ I say. I lift the gun and point it at him again. ‘You can go now.’

That startles him. ‘But your questions. Don’t you want to know—’

‘Nope. Off you go.’

He doesn’t move. ‘We said half an hour.’

‘I’m finished early.’

‘Half an hour. That was the agreement.’

I laugh out loud. ‘You should’ve got it in writing. Fuck off. Don’t come back.’

His jaw sets. ‘If you’re trying to hurt me—’

‘I’m trying to get you out of my gaff. If I want to hurt you, I’ll use this.’ I move my chin at the gun. ‘Go on.’

For a second I think I’m going to have to do it. He’s not used to backing down. Funny, that: neither am I.

I see the moment when he realises I’ll do it. It widens his eyes and he eases back a step, towards the door, but he’s not done. ‘I understand that this has been a shock. Believe me, this wasn’t the way I would have chosen to— Let me leave you my card. When you feel differently—’

His hand’s going to his breast pocket. ‘No,’ I say, and train my gun on that hand till it stops moving. ‘We’re done. If I ever see you again, I’m gonna shoot you dead. Then I’ll explain how terrified I was of my stalker, my friend Steve will back me up, and I’ll sell the story of our tragic misunderstanding to your journalist pal for big bucks.’

Slowly his hand moves away from his pocket. He says, ‘You’re not what I visualised.’

‘No shit,’ I say. ‘Bye.’

For a moment he stands there in the middle of my sitting room, staring at my sofa without seeing it, like he can’t get a hold of what comes next or how to do it. He doesn’t look like the spit of me, not any more. He looks like some middle-aged guy who’s spent too long, the last few days, standing in the cold and imagining.

In the end he moves. With the door open he turns and I think he’s going to say something, but he just nods and steps out into the night.

I go to the doorway and watch him to the top of the road. His hat is under the street lamp, rolling a little in the rising wind; he bends to pick it up like his back hurts, dusts it off and keeps walking, out of the light and around the corner. He doesn’t look back again.