It got better. Because Leah told Astrid about Pippa and Owen. Right in front of everybody. Like a little bomb tossed into the already maimed and dazed group. And when Astrid walked out of the room (chin up, that’s my girl), with everyone’s eyes following her, I knew now was the time to strike.

That night I didn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to. I knew that this was a watershed in my life, and that after tomorrow everything would be different. I needed to savour the moment and not waste it in unconsciousness. After I had made everyone large mugs of tea and told them it would be all right, we just needed to take a step back from what had happened, they wandered off to their rooms one by one, shamefaced and miserable. I heard them shuffling along corridors, gargling and coughing in the bathroom, tossing and snuffling like animals in their beds. I heard Miles snoring. I heard – much later – Astrid returning. She came up the stairs quickly and lightly, and I could imagine her face, serious but not distraught, her jaw firm. For an instant I considered joining her. Perhaps she would tell me her feelings and weep on my shoulder. I could hold her against me and kiss her at last along her jaw line or that small hollow of her neck. Slender neck. No, it wouldn’t do.

At last the house was dark and silent, and I could tell that only I was left awake, sitting upright on my bed with my hands in my lap, my breath steady, and my eyes fixed on a point on my wall, just above the door. I could feel myself growing taller and stronger as I sat there, each breath making me more powerful, readying me. My past self was dropping away: the Davy whose dad didn’t want to know him, who was bullied at school, who had flattered his cow-eyed mother, who was eager to please, who had been humiliated by Pippa, who went out with someone like Melanie rather than someone like Astrid, who had to pretend all the time to be someone else. Those days were ending.

At dawn, I washed and shaved carefully. I went downstairs and made myself a piece of toast, but after one bite I threw it in the bin. No more food and no more sleep until this thing was done. Usually Astrid was the first up, and so it was this morning.

‘Coffee?’ I asked her, as she came into the kitchen. Her dark hair was still damp from her shower, but she was already dressed for work in her shorts and singlet. Her face glowed, clean of any makeup, and her long legs were tanned. I could see the muscles in her calves. My eyes burned just to look at her. My cheeks already stung with the tears I would cry, when it was done.

‘Thanks, Davy. You’re up early.’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Me neither. At least it’s Friday.’ She went over and pushed open the door leading into the garden. ‘It’s going to be a lovely day.’

‘Is it?’

‘Sure. Look at the way the mist’s burning off the grass. This is the best time of year.’

I could tell she was making an effort to be cheerful after the calamity of yesterday evening, but I gave her a chance anyway. ‘I’m so sorry about what happened last night, Astrid.’ She shrugged, but I kept on: ‘If you want to know, I think Owen was an idiot and -’

‘But I don’t want to know,’ she said firmly, coolly.

There. Her last chance was gone. She didn’t realize what she had done. My cheeks flushed.

‘Toast?’ I managed to say.

‘I’ll grab something later. Have a good day.’

‘Right. Um, you too, Astrid. Take care on that bike of yours.’

‘I don’t have a bike any more,’ she said. ‘Remember?’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Borrow Campbell ’s. Again.’

‘I’m going to do some shopping and then I’m seeing Mel,’ I said. ‘Do you need anything?’

She laughed and shook her head. ‘Sorry if I snapped just then.’ She smiled at me sweetly, and then she was gone, striding out of the kitchen and taking the stairs two at a time. I heard her opening the door, then closing it behind her.

I stayed where I was. I saw Miles leave, without even his usual cup of tea. I made coffee for Pippa when she emerged, dainty and demure. Leah strode into the room, all business and briskness: dark brown wrap dress, discreet eyeshadow, slim briefcase, generally contemptuous.

‘Good morning,’ I said.

She paid no attention.

‘Coffee? No milk, right?’

She started slicing an apple into a bowl, then added a handful of bran and a spoonful of yoghurt.

‘Healthy,’ I said.

She didn’t reply.

‘Busy day at the office today, then, Leah?’

‘Very,’ she said, despatching the sawdusty mess into her mouth.

‘There all day?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you all right about yesterday?’

She stopped and looked at me. ‘How could I possibly be?’

‘Right,’ I said.

‘Don’t get me started,’ she said, standing up and rinsing her bowl in the sink. ‘I’ll be off, then.’

‘See you later.’

‘Maybe.’

And she was gone too.

I went back upstairs. Dario and Mick were still in bed, but I could hear Owen moving around in his room – which was probably lucky for him, because, in my mood, I could have changed my mind and chosen him instead, to pay him back for getting his grubby hands on my Astrid. I put on my gloves and rummaged in the back of my underwear drawer for the little tissue parcel of Ingrid de Soto ’s earring. I took out the paperweight and Ingrid’s invitation, and pulled Peggy Farrell’s dainty watch and necklace from a balled-up pair of black socks in the same drawer. So much information. All these carrots that I was dangling in front of their stupid noses. I polished them with a tissue, wiping them clean. I went down the stairs as silently as possible and entered Miles’s room, closing the door behind me. I shook the earring into a matchbox with only a few matches in it and put it on his mantelpiece; pushed Peggy’s stuff into a pair of his socks instead. Nice symmetry, I thought. I put the paperweight inside one of his shoes. I heard Owen coming down the stairs towards the kitchen and stayed still for a moment. By the bed was a black notebook. I knew it was Miles’s address book because I had copied Leah’s address out of it days earlier. I tucked Ingrid de Soto ’s invitation into it, like a bookmark. Was it too blatant? When I was confident that nobody was around, I returned to my room to collect my jacket, checking to make sure that Leah’s key was in the pocket. Time to go.

Leah’s house was already up for sale. To my irritation, the nearest public phone box wasn’t working, so I had to walk for about ten minutes to find another one. I called Campbell at his office and when he answered, said, ‘Hello, is this the messenger service?’

‘That’s right. How can we help?’

‘I looked you up in the Yellow Pages. I want a parcel collected, please. As quickly as possible.’

‘Where are you?’

I gave him Leah’s address.

‘And where’s it going to?’

‘Holborn,’ I said, feeling the cogs in my brain spinning.

‘House or flat?’

‘House. There’s a bell. But I have a request to make. I won’t be there, I’ve got to leave at once, but my wife will be in. Now I hope you don’t think this is odd, but she hasn’t been well, and I think she’d feel much safer if you could send a female messenger. Would that be possible?’

Campbell was clearly irritated by this and tried to insist it didn’t matter but I played the part of the neurotically concerned husband, and I was the customer and the customer is always right, and Campbell finally admitted that, yes, he did have a female messenger and, yes, he would send her. My wife would have to wait a bit longer. That would be fine, I said, fine. My wife had nothing else to do.