He leans back in his chair and stretches his long legs out underneath the table. ‘Urgh. You name it. Controlling. Bullying. Possessive.’ He ticks them off on his fingers. ‘And then …’ He glances at me, almost shyly.

‘What?’

‘He started to get violent. It began with a slap across the face, then a punch to the thigh. But lately he’d just fly into these jealous rages. That night when we met up, I didn’t get mugged. It was Finn. He punched me because he was jealous. He said he noticed a …’ he adopts a silly French accent ‘… frisson between us. He was convinced something was going on.’

I can’t help but laugh, the idea is so ludicrous. ‘Uh … Hello, you’re gay!’

‘I know.’ He sighs. ‘But I’ve …’ he lowers his voice and glances around the café ‘… slept with women before.’

‘So he thought we were sleeping together? Oh, my God, Jack!’

‘I know.’ He stares down at his gourmet cheese and chutney sandwich. I’ve ordered the same yet neither of us has taken a bite yet. ‘The awful thing was, he hated me having any friends, male or female, because he was convinced I’d end up sleeping with them.’

I’m suddenly full of rage at the thought of Finn beating up my lovely friend. ‘What a bastard! You should report him, Jack. Seriously.’

He hangs his head. ‘I can’t.’

‘It’s wrong. He deserves to be prosecuted.’ I remember how subdued Jack had become, how he’d flinch if I touched him. I wonder how long it had been going on.

He looks shamefaced. ‘But it sounds ridiculous. I’m six foot five, taller than him. I’m –’

‘No!’ I slam my fist on the table, causing our plates to jump. ‘For fuck’s sake. It’s assault. And a police officer, too!’ A police officer. ‘Wait. Was it him?’

Jack opens his sandwich and begins picking the lettuce out of it. ‘Was what him?’

‘Stan said some bloke had been asking after me. He said he thought it might have been a police officer.’

Jack’s head shoots up. ‘What?’

‘And the photos on my car.’

‘What photos on your car?’

With everything that’s been going on, I haven’t even had the chance to tell Jack all about it. But as I explain I notice his face pales. ‘What is it, Jack?’

‘I found a photograph of you. In our bedroom.’ His gaze goes to my coat hanging over the back of my chair. ‘You’re wearing that coat in it. I asked Finn about it. He said it was mine. Accused me of taking it because I fancied you.’ He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Shit. What a bastard.’

He must have scaled the gate to get to my car. He’s certainly strong enough.