She could not, however, quite dislocate her mind from the flat she’d entered that afternoon, nor the fear that had washed over Dominic’s face at the creak of a wall, or her own panic. George had been horrified. Despite her obvious survival in standing there next to him, he had clutched her shoulders with both hands, as though to check that she was not in fact dismembered. “I’m alive,” she had smiled at him, and he had smiled back, their eyes locking for a moment while the world continued around them, like the early days.

Smiles, however, had turned to disgust when she described the state of affairs next door. But they couldn’t act on it, George had worried – how could they without detailing her unsanctioned visit? How could she have told her father about his friend in Oman without mentioning her own flirtations? How could she have blamed her English teacher without blaming herself? George was probably right. They might still have the wrong idea anyway. And if they overstepped, they could well make everything worse.

Nevertheless, indecision twisted Veronica’s veins. Untethered threads tangled. Dread stomped upon boldness. Rosie itched.

The housing officer asked them to begin. His expression seemed understanding, but Veronica worried. Council workers were usually socialists, weren’t they? What if he thought them simply privileged complainers? What if through the shine of their watches and the polish of her nails, he couldn’t see how terrified and vulnerable she and George were, how crucial for them this moment of action, how mammoth coming to see him had been?

“I’m very sorry you’re having to deal with this,” the officer said when George had finished his initial explanation, Veronica chipping in every now and then to add her impressions and some details from the encounters she’d had. “I can’t give you much information at the moment, but we are aware of this family. We’ve had another complaint already.”

George and Veronica looked at each other.

“In fact, more than one. Now, what would be helpful is if you could describe to me exactly who you’ve seen going in and out of the flat. It’s registered to a Miss Milly Peck. Is she somebody you’ve met?”

Veronica shook her head in surprise. This was not at all what she’d been expecting. They weren’t the only complainers! The result wouldn’t only be their doing! At this, relief and hope trickled through her, untangling. Next came intrigue: “No. Who’s Milly Peck? There’s nobody called Milly living there.”

“You’re sure?” asked the officer.

“We can hear everybody,” confirmed George. “We’re sure.”

The officer nodded and made a note in the file, but before he could ask anything further, George redirected.

“What can you do about the noise?”

Now the officer sighed heavily. “It’s a process, I’m not going to lie. It would begin with a warning, and could ultimately end up in court.”

“I’m quite worried about increasing hostility,” Veronica ventured, glancing across to George. “I presume they’d know a complaint had come from us?”