‘I looked on there yesterday,’ I said. ‘Total waste of time.’

Simon tutted but didn’t say any more, picking up his iPhone and manipulating the screen with his thumb. Natalie came over and touched my shoulder. ‘It’s difficult to find a job, I think,’ she said kindly. Her hair was messed up – I think she and Simon had thrown a double sickie today to be together. Natalie smelled faintly of sex. It was too much.

I had to get out. I bought a few cans of beer and went and sat down by the Lock. I had some thinking to do. And the fresh alcohol helped make me feel better; oiled the engine of my mind.

Seeing Siobhan with Kathy last night has made me realise that I should be her friend, and that it is possible because, clearly, there isn’t really a rule about socialising with her students. I want to ask her why she lied to me, and I want her to know how I feel. Or do I? Oh… I don’t know. I know from experience that it’s best to be friends with women first, and that you shouldn’t try to go beyond that stage too soon. But what if Siobhan only has room for one new friend right now?

Kathy.

Room for Kathy and none for me.

By the time I’d finished my last can of lager I knew that I was going to have to do something about Siobhan’s new friend.

I walked up past the college to the pub where I saw them having their cosy drink, the George V, and looked in through the window. No sign of Kathy. So I came home again, buying more cans of beer on the way home.

I’ll go back tomorrow, even though I don’t know what I’m going to say to her or what I’m going to do.

Oh fuck. Being in love like this is killing me.

Sunday

Went to George V again. Still no sign of Kathy.

Read TLA. Twice.

Googled Kathy and tried to find out where she lives but no joy.

Kissed Siobhan’s picture. A thousand times.

Monday

Oh.

Oh fuck. What a…

My hands are shaking so much I can hardly type. I don’t even know if I should be writing this down. What if . . ? But I need to get it out. I need to rid myself of it, like being sick when you’ve drunk so much you feel poisoned.

The day started like this:

I was woken by the doorbell. I turned over and it buzzed again. Opening one eye, I looked at the alarm clock. Half-eight – Si would be at work. I half-fell out of bed and went to the door, wearing just my boxer shorts. It was the postman.

He looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow. ‘Parcels for Siobhan McGowan.’

‘Eh?’

‘I’ve got two parcels for a Ms Siobhan McGowan. Have I got the wrong address?’

‘Oh, no… No. She lives here but she’s not in.’

He handed me the parcels, gave me another look and turned around. I shut the door and studied the parcels, both of which were soft and squidgy, with TheBoutique.com written on the packaging. I opened them and found myself holding a black skirt and a low-cut top, both with a Prada label. That’s when I remembered: the other night, when I got home after following Siobhan, I’d been online, and I must have bought these using Siobhan’s credit card. Except this time I’d made a mistake and put my own address down.

But seeing the clothes made me feel really cheerful. I don’t know a huge deal about fashion, but even I could see that this was top-notch clobber, and exactly the kind of clothes that would really suit Siobhan; the type of stuff that for some reason she never buys for herself. She could wear this over her new underwear. Wow, she’d look hot.

This time, I wanted to see the look on her face when she saw them.

I put the skirt and top into a bag and, after getting dressed, made my way towards Victoria Gardens.

As usual, the road was pretty much deserted. There were a pair of magpies sitting on Siobhan’s roof. Two for joy: what a good omen. As I watched, one of the magpies stretched its wings and flew away. Damn. Still, it’s the initial sighting that counts. I think.

I went up Siobhan’s front path, took the clothes out of their bag and lay them carefully on the doorstep. Then I rang the bell and ran back down the path as quickly as I could. I crouched behind a car, ensuring that I had a good view of the door, and waited for Siobhan to emerge and find the clothes. How excited she would be: my card, the flowers, the underwear, and now this. It must feel like Christmas nearly every day!

I waited, but Siobhan didn’t emerge. She must be out again, I thought.

I counted to ten then stood up. I’d had another brilliant idea. I didn’t want to leave the clothes on the step all day in case some dishonest passer-by saw them and nabbed them. My new idea meant that I wouldn’t get to see Siobhan’s face when she found her new glorious garments, but I decided that was a price worth paying.

I walked back up her path, took out my key, scooped up the clothes and went inside. She must have gone out before the post, because it was lying on the floor. I picked it up and put it on the side table.

I really like Siobhan’s place and can’t wait till she invites me to move in, but I didn’t have time to hang around. I didn’t know if she’d just popped out to buy some milk or something. I went straight through to the kitchen and looked out the back window. There was the washing, hanging on the line. I unbolted the back door and went out into the garden. There were high walls surrounding the garden so I was confident nobody would see me, and I quickly did what I’d come to do. It was time to replace some of those scruffy old clothes that Siobhan slobbed around in with these new, flattering items. I pulled down an old pair of jeans and a misshapen T-shirt with I-heart-NY emblazoned on the front and pegged the Prada skirt and top up in their place. I noticed that the underwear I’d sent wasn’t on the line. Maybe she was wearing it that very minute. I would have liked to have gone up and looked through her chest of drawers to check, but I was worried about time. Before I left, though, I noticed a little gate set into the wall in the corner of the garden. I looked over it – it led out to an alley. I made a mental note.

Taking the jeans and T-shirt with me, I went back into the house, bolted the door behind me and hurried out through the front door.

When I got onto the road, I heard a miaow.

I turned. It was Siobhan’s cat, standing on the wall. Had it followed me out of the house? I hadn’t even seen it . It jumped down from the wall and ran across the road, stopping on the kerb and looking back at me.

Then I had another idea: maybe I could get Siobhan’s cat to deliver a message to her. I fished in my pockets and found a piece of paper and a pen. I wrote ‘I love you’ on it and crossed the road towards the cat. I was going to wrap the piece of paper around its collar.

As I neared the feline it tiptoed away, stopping just out of reach. It must be a girl, I thought, amused. It was a little tease.

‘Come on,’ I said, making little cooing noises. ‘Come to your future daddy.’

It blinked at me.

I crept closer, holding out the piece of paper, making little kissy noises now. Thank God there was nobody around to see, although I could hear a car coming down the street. I paused and stretched out my hand towards the cat, which was now washing itself. ‘Come on, you little…‘ I said, and at that point I sprang, throwing myself towards it, aiming to grab its collar.

I missed. I made contact with the fur on its back, but the cat slipped out from under my grasp and ran at top feline speed into the road – straight into the path of a car. Through the fingers I thrust in front of my face I saw a blur of fur, a flash of silver, heard a screech of tyres and then

BANG.

I opened my eyes and removed my hands from my face. The cat was nowhere to be seen. But the car…oh shit. The car had swerved and smashed into Siobhan’s front wall, sending bricks and dust flying. I saw a face through the car window, turning towards me: a woman, looking dazed and scared, but thankfully still alive, and with no sign of blood.