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because he had rubbed several viewing-areas into the condensation. They were too high for me. I put my feet where his must have been, and rubbed the rest of the insides of the windows with one of my cloths, which was instantly drenched. The view from this room was different every time I looked. Today there was mist rolling in from the sea, and I could barely see the castle or swimming pool. The sea faded away, just a few metres out, as if it were a stage set. I could not see the tankers, but I knew they were out there, lurking close to the horizon. I always wondered about the sailors who lived on them. They came ashore sometimes in little boats, and I had seen a couple of them, once, in the Tesco at Events Square, buying bags and bags full of tins and cheap bread and rice. People said they just had to wait, living on the boats, until someone in charge called them home again.
    I knew that the visitor stood here with his coffee, because there were brown drips on the carpet that I would try to get off in a minute. Before that, I cleaned the insides of the windows properly. Then I folded the clothes that were scattered on the floor next to his bag, and put them on the chair. I felt more comfortable, once I had imposed some order.
    As I was reassuring myself that he must have gone out without bothering with the double-lock and the alarm, I heard a splash of water. A tap, I thought. A tap had been left on. I knew I had not imagined it. It came from the little bathroom that adjoined this room. I stood still. There was another splash, louder this time. I bit my lip, edged towards it, and knocked. When there was, again, no response, I grabbed the handle, turned it, and opened the door.

    He sat up in the bath, his mouth open, his expression horrified. My heart leaped into my mouth. It was him: Harry Summer. Harry Summer was naked in the bath, and I had just walked in.
    I managed to say, ‘Oh, sorry,’ before closing the door firmly. I heard the water sloshing around as he got out. ‘Um, I’m Lily, your cleaner,’ I called, from the other side of the door. ‘Sorry, I had no idea you were here, otherwise of course I wouldn’t have—’
    ‘No, don’t worry,’ Harry called, in a gruff voice. He chuckled. ‘Tell you what, Lily-the-cleaner. Pop downstairs and make us some coffee, will you, while I get myself decent?’
    ‘Yes!’ I yelled gratefully, and I set off down the stairs, as quickly as I possibly could.
    I cleaned the kitchen frantically while the kettle boiled, even though it put my system completely out of sequence. It was a huge, light room at the back of the house, and the chrome oven was still spodess from last week: they did not seem to cook very often. I washed out the cafetière and found a tin of coffee in the fridge, an old-fashioned-looking tin with Mother’s Coffee emblazoned on it and a picture of a fifties-style housewife. As a cleaner, I felt I did not have a right to make myself a drink, but at the same time, Harry Summer had asked me to make him one. I would only have a cup if I were offered one.
    I wondered why he was in the upstairs bathroom, and why he was not at work, and whether he was sleeping up there.

    ‘Lucky I went for the “bubbles” option!’ he said, standing in the kitchen doorway and laughing. I looked at him, confused. He was nearly Harry. He was tall and good-looking, but now that I looked at him properly, I could see that he was someone else. ‘Otherwise you really would have got more than you bargained for,’ he continued. ‘Fergus Summer. Nice to meet you, particularly in such entertaining circumstances.’
    I forced myself to smile. ‘I’m Lily,’ I told him again. He was definitely someone who would have laughed at ‘Button’. I tried to be brave. I had barely ever even spoken to a man one-to-one like this and I was not sure how to be. I clasped my hands behind my back so that he would not see them shaking. ‘I’m, er, so sorry. I called out and knocked and . . .