‘It’s not mine,’ I said.

She was already unzipping it. When she looked inside, she saw my gloves first, but then she saw what was beneath them and she placed the hand to her chest again.

‘It’s Benjy’s money,’ I explained. ‘I don’t know what to do with it. I was hoping you’d be a friend of his…’

She looked at me and then smiled. It was a big, beaming smile, and it was followed by a laugh.

‘I am a friend of Benjy’s,’ she said, taking my arm and squeezing it. ‘This was supposed to be my surprise.’ She nodded towards the bag. ‘And now you’ve delivered it. Thank you, Gravy!’

I was a bit confused. ‘The bag’s for you?’

‘It’s money for my holiday.’

I thought about it, but it still wasn’t clear. It seemed all fuzzy in the middle.

‘I need to be going,’ she was saying. ‘Quite soon, Gravy.’ She was looking at the open door again. ‘I just need to pack a few… no, maybe not. I can buy whatever I need. No passport, though.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘Passport’s at my flat.’

‘Is this not your house?’

‘My cousin’s. Police called it a “safe house”, fat lot they know. I’ve only been here two days, and Don Empson’s got the address.’ She looked around us, suddenly fearful. ‘Need to get out of here, Gravy,’ she decided. ‘Somewhere safe. Can you drive?’ She realised what she’d said and laughed a short laugh. ‘What am I saying? You drove here, didn’t you?’

‘I did,’ I said.

‘So maybe you can give me a lift?’

‘The bus stop?’ I guessed, but she shook her head.

‘Edinburgh.’

‘That’s miles. We could run out of petrol.’

‘We’ve got money,’ she said, grabbing my arm again. ‘Plenty of money, remember? My holiday money.’

And with that, she lifted out the bag, then got into the car, resting it on her lap.

‘Are you going to leave the door open?’ I asked, pointing towards the house. ‘The heat will get out.’

‘Let it,’ she snapped. But she could see I wasn’t happy. ‘The rooms need airing,’ she explained. ‘Place gets stuffy otherwise. Now come on.’ She patted the driving seat. ‘I want your best Jeremy Clarkson impression.’