‘Curry won’t arrive for thirty minutes or so.’ McNab raised a hopeful eyebrow.

‘So let’s have a drink while we wait.’ Ellie eyed his whisky glass. ‘I take it you have wine?’

Fuck. That’s what he didn’t have. Maybe Darren could replenish that too in future, if asked.

Ellie smiled at his discomfort. ‘Just as well I brought a bottle, courtesy of the Rock Cafe.’

She left him to go through to the hall for her backpack. Flourishing the bottle of red wine on re-entry, she said with a pitying smile, ‘We could take our drinks into that rather nice bedroom.’

‘Thank you, Darren,’ McNab whispered under his breath.

Later, it was McNab who rose and, donning his boxers, went to the door to take possession of the curry. Behind him, Ellie scurried through to the sitting room in what looked like his T-shirt.

The sex had obviously given her an appetite, because she moved to swiftly open the various cartons and murmur delight at their contents.

‘You’ve chosen the stuff I like,’ she said in surprise. ‘Normally I have to beg for the mild curries and a Peshwari naan.’

Usually McNab preferred a hot curry, but his taste buds had reappeared since he’d cut back on the whisky, so he’d been okay about going for the milder choices. Something he didn’t mention, of course, since he was rather enjoying the thoughtful boyfriend role he was playing.

Ellie topped up her wine. McNab, who hadn’t yet finished his two fingers of whisky, decided to save it until the end.

‘You have cut back,’ Ellie said. ‘Less booze, and a clean flat. You must have really wanted me back here.’ She threw him a suspicious look. ‘Or is this really about Harry?’

‘He’s getting out tomorrow,’ McNab said. ‘And he’s agreed to stay at your place, if you’ll have him.’

Ellie pondered that as she broke off a piece of naan.

‘What did you say to him?’

McNab chose his words carefully. ‘He wants to get clean. He agreed to see a counsellor. I’ll put him in touch with the right folk. He’s a former soldier, injured in the line of duty. He should be getting help.’

She was regarding him now in much the way that Rhona did when she was trying to work out exactly what game he was playing. McNab felt a stab of regret because he was playing her and Harry, and he wanted to win as always.

‘What’s he got to do in return?’

‘Stay fucking alive,’ McNab said. ‘That’s what you want, isn’t it?’

‘Will he testify as to who stabbed him?’

McNab shook his head. ‘We aren’t there yet. One step at a time.’

She didn’t like his tone. He could see that by the raising of an eyebrow.

‘If you’re fucking with him . . .’ She tailed off accusingly.