Hidden in the back of Craig’s small car, he left the hotel. He knew it was foolish to get mixed up with Sophie Carr again, but he didn’t care. He wanted to make sure … to find out … he didn’t know what he wanted, except simply to be with her.

He smiled. And maybe to enjoy another piece of her wonderful home-made cake.

After parking on Chestnut Lane, Craig studied the other vehicles, then switched off the engine. ‘I’ll just scout round. Keep the car doors locked.’

Reluctantly, Jez did as he was told. The memory of the intruder with the knife slashing his face was still horribly vivid and ensured that he took care.

Craig returned and slid into the car. ‘I don’t think there are any watchers tonight but we’d better not approach her house openly. Come on. We’ll go through the gardens of your new place.’

‘You don’t need to come with me. I know my way.’

‘You know better than that, Jez. Don’t worry. I’ll stay outside in the garden.’

‘Good thing it’s a fine evening.’

Craig didn’t bother to reply. He didn’t joke about his job.

Creeping through the darkness and trying not to make any noise felt ridiculously theatrical, cops-and-robbers stuff. The gate creaked a little and Craig muttered under his breath.

When they approached the side door of Sophie’s house, Jez expected a security light to come on, but it didn’t. He knocked and waited, keeping his eyes open to what was happening around him, even though Craig was watching his back.

The moonlight was bright enough to show the curtain moving slightly at a nearby window then dropping into place again. Wise of her, Jez thought, but felt sad that she’d had to learn this lesson the hard way. When she opened the door, he slipped inside without a word.

Once the door was closed, she switched on the light and they stood staring at one another.

‘You look even more tired and stressed than last time,’ she said at last.

‘Been an eventful few days.’

‘Come and tell me about it.’

The urge to gather her in his arms was very strong, but he resisted it. He had no right and anyway was unsure how she’d react, though he was certain she was attracted to him. You couldn’t miss that flare of energy. ‘I shouldn’t be here, really, only – well, I really like talking to you.’ He saw her tense expression soften into a smile.

‘I like talking to you too, Jez.’

Amazed at her lack of pretence, he followed her into the kitchen, which again smelled of something delicious.

‘Shall we start with a piece of cake and a glass of wine, maybe?’

‘The cake would be wonderful, but I don’t drink. I’m an alcoholic, recovered I hope. I don’t touch a drop these days.’

‘It must have taken a big effort to get off the booze.’

‘Yeah. And the drugs.’ Perversely, he didn’t want her to have any illusions about him.