I padded silently up to the second floor. My visits to the flat, the very same flat, which I visited and spied on all those years ago, had once filled me with such euphoria. Ted, who owned the flat, had made sure it was free for his daughter's return, but he hadn't paid much attention to the decor. Back then, I hadn't noticed the damp brown walls with their peeling paint nor the stained brown carpets.

Everything would have worked out in the end if it hadn’t been for that bastard, Mitch Dawson. I gripped the banister as I crept upstairs aware of my thumping heart. My anger and impotence were evaporating as the excitement of anticipated action infused my body. I felt exhilarated and couldn’t wait to begin. I rapped gently on the door.

The converted building contained four flats. Two were on the ground floor, one on the first and one at the top. Once I’d reached the second floor, I felt safe. If anyone exited from either of the lower apartments I’d be out of sight.

When there was no answer I rapped again, louder this time and listened for sounds of movement from within by pushing an ear hard up against the wood. A faint light which had seeped from under the door frame had gone out. But I knew she was in there.

She wouldn’t know it was me and that I wasn’t going to go away. Someone down below opened a door and yelled back inside, ‘See you later. I won’t be late. Don’t stay up.’ The door slammed and I heard the jingle of keys and a steady click of high heels across the floorboards towards the front entrance. Then there was silence once again.

Ten minutes later, she finally gave in and opened the door. She peered out from behind the chain before tentatively pulling it back.

‘Arthur,’ she said as she stared in bewilderment through the gap. She was wearing her pink dressing gown and her hair was wet, or perhaps unwashed as it hung down greasily over her face.

‘Can I come in?’ I spoke quietly, both to muffle the noise and to negate any unease she might have had at letting me into her flat.

‘I was in the bath and really want to be alone. Now’s not a good time, Arthur.’ A slight hesitation was enough encouragement to spur me on. It wasn’t yet time to bash the door down.

‘I only wanted to see if you were okay. I know what an awful time you’ve been having,’ I said. ‘Just a cup of tea. I won’t stay long, I promise. We can catch up properly another time.’ I painted on a smile.

My heart skipped a beat when she unlatched the chain. She stepped back and said, ‘Okay. A quick cup of tea. I’ll put on the kettle.’