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‘Oh,’ Penny said. ‘That’s pretty definitive. Is there a reason? It’s only a drink. Trust me, I’m not looking for another relationship right now.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not that. I can’t.’

She nodded slowly. ‘James. It’s only a drink, but fine. Another time, maybe.’

‘Maybe,’ James said. For a moment he considered telling her the whole story, but the words died on his lips. ‘Maybe.’

3

Carl took a drag on his spliff. ‘Have you got a photo of her?’

‘I think so. We had a team-building day.’ James scrolled through his photos. There was one of him, a guy called Paul, and Penny. ‘That’s her.’

Carl looked at the screen. In the photo, Penny had her hair scraped back in a ponytail. She was wearing a green T-shirt and tight black leggings.

‘You turned her down?’ Carl said. ‘Are you fucking crazy? Or secretly gay? It’s cool if you are. I’ll still be your mate.’

James regretted telling him at all, but they’d had at least six or seven pints of strong lager before coming home and starting on the weed, and he’d found himself explaining what had happened.

‘No, I’m not,’ he said. ‘I’m just not that interested.’

‘Give her my number if she’s looking for someone to help her get over the break-up,’ Carl said. ‘I’ll do it.’

There was a knock on the door. Carl nodded at it. ‘You go,’ he said. ‘I’m still in shock.’

James opened the door of the flat. A tall, thin man in a leather vest looked at him with dark, sunken eyes. He had a shaved head, the veins in his forehead visible.

‘All right, mate,’ he said. ‘Carl in?’

‘Yeah. I’ll get him.’

‘No need. I’ll come right in. Don’t worry, chicken. He knows me.’

James nodded and walked into the living room. The man followed him.

Carl clicked his tongue when he saw him. ‘Well, fuck me,’ he said. ‘Davy. When did you get out?’

‘Two days ago.’

‘Welcome back, mate.’ Carl looked at James. ‘This is Davy. Been a guest of Her Majesty. Davy, this is James.’

‘He living here?’ Davy said.

‘He is. Where you staying?’

‘At my mum’s. Looking for something permanent. Thought you might want to give me my old room back, but looks like it’s taken. Anyway, let’s celebrate.’ He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. ‘Borrowed a few quid from the old woman,’ he said. ‘And got this.’

He emptied the bag on to the coffee table. There was a small vial of liquid and a needle.

‘Oh,’ Carl said. ‘You’re a bad man, Davy Simpson. I’ve not been near that stuff for a few years. And I don’t want to go back.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Davy said. ‘You always want to. You might tell yourself you don’t, but that’s bollocks.’

James looked at Carl. He was staring at the bag with yearning in his eyes.

He swallowed and rolled up his sleeve. ‘Come on then,’ Carl said, his voice low. ‘Let’s celebrate.’

4