‘Did you just send me more flowers?’ I demanded. ‘Down here, today? Horrible lilies that you know I hate.’

‘Never, Maggie. I’ve never sent you lilies. I did –’ He cleared his throat. ‘I did send you some flowers at your dad’s the other day.’

‘Really?’ I could hardly believe that. ‘So why did you have that mobile then? If it wasn’t you, why did you have the phone that I got those bloody texts from?’

‘I found it,’ he muttered.

‘You must know how utterly lame that sounds.’ I was scathing.

I almost felt his shrug down the phone. ‘Maybe it does, but it’s true. It wasn’t me, you have to believe me. Someone must have planted it.’

‘What do you mean, planted? This isn’t Starsky and Hutch, you know, Alex. It’s real life.’ Though I wasn’t sure about that either.

‘It was in that box of stuff I picked up from the flat, Maggie, I swear. Fully charged and working. I thought it was yours. I mean, for all I know –’ He paused.

‘What?’

‘You put it there.’

‘Are you joking?’

‘Are you? If it wasn’t you, Mag, then someone means you no good.’

‘Well, I know that much, thanks, Alex. Of course it wasn’t bloody me.’

‘I thought you might –’

‘What?’

‘Be trying to, you know, punish me. Set me up.’

‘Why would I do that?’ To my dismay I found I was crying, silent tears slipping down my face, emotions buzzing round my head like angry hornets. I breathed a long, juddery sigh.

‘Why would I set you up? I love you, Alex.’

‘Loved.’

‘Love, loved, whatever. I’m not going to set you up. I’m more worried about what you’re trying to do to me.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Maggie,’ he howled, ‘I can’t come anywhere near you anyway. They’re talking about restraining orders now.’

There was a long silence broken only by Digby worrying at the lamb bone I’d chucked him earlier. ‘Alex,’ I whispered eventually, ‘I’m frightened. I don’t know what’s going on.’

‘Well, go home then,’ he said roughly. ‘Or are you with that bloke? He’ll look after you, won’t he?’

‘No.’ I stared out of the window at the darkening afternoon. Digby’s ears suddenly pricked up; he growled at a ghost. ‘Ssh, silly. No, I’m on my own.’

‘That’s a bit stupid, isn’t it?’

‘I just need some headspace. Headspace for a headcase.’ I was glad to hear Alex insisting it wasn’t him; but I was confused and scared, desperate to know who was after me – and underlying it all there was a terrible yearning sadness. Then I had a thought that hurled me out of my nostalgia.

‘Talking of headcases, how come you were wining and dining Fay the other day?’

He snorted. ‘Wining and dining? Hardly. I had a coffee with her. She said she had something to tell me.’

‘What?’