An hour later we were upstairs, sprawled in Juan’s luxury apartment. He owned the penthouse suite at the top of the skyscraper towering over Castle Square, an easy place in which to relax. Basically our host lived above his shop. This fact made me feel a little better about my love rival; the guy was obviously a complete fraud. I suspected his accent was put on for the sake of his clientele, more Gorseinon than Guadalajara – guess he got to charge more for a haircut that way. I’d resisted my irrational urge to punch him in the face for two main reasons: first, I couldn’t deny Juan had been infuriating polite; second, I was sure he could dismantle and reassemble me one handed without breaking sweat. Otherwise I would have taken him out in an instant. Scumbag.

Juan fed us a gourmet supper rustled up from a handful of ingredients tossed into a sizzling pan, before telling us to treat the place as our own. I took this as an invitation to snoop round the spacious open-plan lounge, four wall-length windows granting panoramas of the glittering city far below. There was room for a tennis court, but apparently that was on another floor. Huge arty black and white photos of naked musclebound men sprawling with kittens hung from every wall. I was sure if I looked hard enough somewhere I’d find a dimmer switch, maybe next to the button triggering Barry White’s greatest hits – clearly the bachelor pad of a try-hard bar steward.

I was drawn to a crackling fake fireplace big enough to garage a small car. A row of glittering, Oscar-like statuettes crowded the wide mantle. Gwen saw me inspecting the weird things and glided over to stand at my shoulder.

‘He’s a man of culture, our host. A leading light in the Welsh film industry – after retiring from his first career. That’s how he got the money to buy this place.’

I didn’t need to ask what sort of films Juan had starred in. The ‘Oscars’ turned out to be a whole firing squad of burnished golden phalluses, replete with inscriptions bearing the titles of his well-oiled body of work. I’d not yet seen Shitty Titty Gangbang, or had time to enjoy Willy Wanker and the Fudge Packing Factory, but the night was still young. Who knew where things would end? But of course, for some of us, it would only lead to bed. Despite my strange surroundings I soon found myself drifting off to sleep on one of the many oversized couches. I’d had a busy day.

As I lay drowsing Gwen and our host sat talking quietly nearby. I did some pretend snoring so as not to cramp Juan’s style. If I gave him room to make his play maybe he’d crash and burn. For the life of me I couldn’t understand what Gwen saw in the handsome, suave, manicured, multi-millionaire. So what if he could do her hair for free into the bargain? To top it all they seemed to be old friends, colleagues from long ago. If any can fathom the minds of women they’re better men than me.

Gwen was almost purring up at the slob. ‘Thanks again Juan, I didn’t know where else to turn.’

‘No worries, Bonita. You saved me enough times back in the day. I owe you more than a few.’

She hesitated for a moment. ‘This is different. We’ve got some major players on our tail. I can’t overstate the danger. You’re risking your life just talking to me.’

Even the way Juan clinked the ice round his glass drove me up the wall. ‘Gwendolyn my love, we survived our share of danger many times. Remember when we escaped from Tarkov?’

She chuckled without much mirth. ‘Yeah, we gave that troll factory got the full billy goat treatment. I’ve still got the crate of vodka somewhere.’ There was a pause. ‘But how are things round here? The old place feels, I don’t know, different somehow.’

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Now it was Juan’s turn to hesitate. ‘I won’t lie to you, is not so good. This country, how you say, goes quickly to the dogs – and these might turn out a pack of hyenas. Prophets and madmen roam the streets – gets worse every day. The fabric of society tears like last week’s pantyhose.’

‘I’ve seen the news,’ Gwen muttered. ‘There’s been a backlash building for years. We’re heading for a crash.’

‘Exactly this – so it is no time for the picking-up of the strays. Where did you find this one?’

Gwen took a while to answer. ‘He’s not a stray, he was… the mission. I had my doubts from the start. Guess I should have trusted my instincts.’

‘What is it that has been occurring?’

Gwen let out a long sigh. ‘We got to the handover and I couldn’t go through with it. Sometimes your past catches up with you, and mine had been closing in for years. Like I said, the clients are not people you’d want to cross.’

‘But you crossed them all the same. You don’t change, my little flower. Brave and loyal, to the point of the foolhardy.’

‘I was working for The Man – should have known he’d turn out to be an asshole.’

‘And now these asswipes want their prize. Maybe figuring you want to up your price?’

‘Maybe they do. But that’s not how it is at all. I owe it to Kevin to set him right. You wouldn’t believe who he was if I told you – and believe me, you don’t want to know. He’s more of a lost sheep than a stray dog.’

‘And you’re Little Bo Peep? I can picture you in the outfit now – cute.’

It was all I could do to suppress the urge to jump up and punch the oily git. Did he think he was funny? It heartened me not a titter passed Gwen’s perfect lips; if anything she sounded sad.

‘You know I’ve got my reasons.’

There was a pause, no doubt while Juan caressed his chiselled jawline. ‘On the subject of our old compadre, you know he’s been discharged from the facility? The doctors claim they’ve done all they can.’

Gwen was silent for a while. ‘I’d heard rumours. Can’t see how it’s a good thing. He still needs help.’

‘Maybe you should go and see him. Might be good for both of you – silence can fester.’

‘I doubt talking would help. Silence can also heal.’

What was this lunk trying to push her into? As if we didn’t have enough on our plate already. Juan had some nerve, as well as, I had to admit, a voice like oak-aged sherry.

‘We all have regrets, Bonita – comes with our line of work. Or rather, your line of work.’

Gwen poured herself another drink. ‘Yes, I see retirement has treated you well. Don’t you miss the buzz – the sheer excitement of the game?’

Now it was our host’s turn to take a while answering. ‘Sometimes. Retirement has been good to me, as you can see. But we are not here to speak of my home comforts. To return to your lost sheep – who doesn’t think much of me, by the way – can’t you just… drop him back where you found him?’

Gwen took a deep breath. ‘It’s not that simple. You have no idea what an idiot he is. It would be kinder to pop one in the back of his head and leave him in a ditch. Maybe even a service to society.’

I nearly fell off the couch with shock and had to stifle a snort of derision. Was this how Gwen really thought of me? Apparently so. Neither of the lovebirds were paying enough attention to notice my convulsions, as Gwen continued.

‘That’s why I need to get him hidden, to buy time. Unless you’ve got any bright ideas how to extract us from this mess.’

Again Juan paused. ‘You’ll see things better in the morning. The spare room is made up. Sleep will help, it always does.’

I heard Gwen getting to her feet. I think she kissed him, and then she was gone, ghosting off to one of the many guest rooms. Juan sat there by himself for a while, swirling the last of the ice around his glass and mulling over how badly he’d just crashed and burned. Lol. I sensed his dark eyes range over me.

After a lengthy reflection he creaked to his feet and left for a moment, then returned with a blanket and pillows. I was taken aback by what happened next. He draped the blanket over me and put the pillows within easy reach. He even patted me on the cheek.

‘Sleep well oveja pequeña. We’ll sort you out – have no fear.’ It would have been no surprise if he’d given me a goodnight kiss. Perhaps I’d been wrong about Juan’s motivations, or maybe his tastes. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I’d been through so much lately my head was all over the place. Juan turned out the lights and then he too was gone, leaving me to my unhappy thoughts. If I hadn’t been so tired I don’t think I would have slept a wink. When I opened my eyes it was morning.