All of a sudden I felt stupid. Surely Ian wouldn’t hurt me, especially now he knew I had called the police? Maybe I had overreacted. The operator was still talking, but I couldn’t do this. It was going too far, and as the fear abated it was replaced with shame. How had I ended up like this, in a relationship that needed intervention from the police?

I apologised to the operator and told her it was just a row, that I had panicked unnecessarily, and asked her to please forget it. I had to reassure her that I really was okay, but eventually she believed me and I hung up.

‘Ian,’ I shouted, my lie prepared. ‘The police want me to call them in an hour to tell them I’m okay. Now move away from the door, please.’

That did it. He looked at me warily as I inched open the door, but he backed away and didn’t threaten me physically.

The potential for violence was only part of the problem, though. Nothing seemed to shake Ian’s conviction that he deserved to be in my house, and those first hours at home set the tone for the weekend. I did my best to keep out of his way, but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to change his mind.

Today I’m relieved to be going back to work, out of the stifling atmosphere of the house. I need to work out how to reclaim my home, and I don’t think Ian has a case based on what I have read online, but I have no idea how long it might take me to prove it, and I can’t go on living with him.

I can feel the frown on my face as I walk into the office, and assume that is why I’m getting some strange looks. I expected people to smile and ask me about my holiday, but nobody does. I look around the room, trying to plaster a grin on my face to show that all is well, but nobody will meet my eyes. Instead, they look at their computer screens or their phones. What’s going on?

I plug my laptop in, but before I can open it, the internal phone on my desk rings.

‘My office, please.’

It’s my boss, Tim, and he doesn’t sound happy either. It’s strange because I checked over the weekend to see if there were any emergency emails – anything that I might have missed with regard to the event I’ve been helping to manage. But I hadn’t received one single message, so I assumed everything was going to plan. Maybe I was wrong.

I walk into Tim’s office and smile. ‘Hi,’ I say and stop dead. Heather from HR is with him, and I look from one to the other in surprise. ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask.