‘Because,’ said Emily, ‘she thinks she’s invincible and fascinating and at the same time worries that she’s not. Worries she might only be well educated, connected and a little boring. For example, she plays the violin very well. I know this because she told me she does. She said, “I play the violin very well.”’

We didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

‘Did you ever go shoplifting?’ I asked her.

‘Make-up. Sweets. Nothing serious. You?’

‘Similar. Only ever on a whim. Just to test my courage.’

‘Sophie wasn’t stealing on a whim. She had lined a bag with tinfoil. Come on,’ she said. ‘This is a nice pub coming up. One for the road.’

*

‘Do you think he’s back?’ I asked.

It was an hour later and we were standing outside her flat.

‘I doubt it.’

The street was so quiet. If I woke to this sort of peace in my place, it could only be because everyone in the city had been massacred. A church spire rose behind the fenced-off square at the end of the road. The English pastoral in the heart of the city. Serious money.

‘Goodnight, Paul,’ she said, and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of weeks at the launch, if you can make it.’

‘Goodnight, Emily.’

She shut the door and I looked up to the top of the building, to where I thought her living room was. I watched the darkened glass and imagined her climbing the stairs and that I was behind her again, following her to the top. After a few moments, I gave up looking for a light to come on. She would be in the kitchen, or in her study, on the other side of the building, or she would be standing upstairs in the darkness, watching me as I turned around and walked away.

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‌Eight