The telephone rings again. They glance at each other. Alison picks it up. This time she stays silent, imagining Adam speaking in some far-off place, assuming she can hear him. She waits for a snatch of his voice, but there’s nothing. She senses that the silence is occupied. Someone is listening, waiting for her to speak. She can hear faint breathing. Then the muffled sound of the phone being moved. The line is cut, and she’s left with the droning sound to confirm it.

‘Who was it? You look upset.’

‘No one spoke but I’m sure someone was there.’ She shakes her head. Was it Adam? What’s going on?

Audience laughter fills the pause.

‘Maybe there’s something wrong with Adam’s phone.’ Julie flicks her hair behind her shoulders.

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘How can you tell, if you couldn’t hear anyone?’

‘I heard someone breathing and I don’t think it was Adam.’ She dials 1471. ‘It’s a withheld number.’

‘But who else would it be?’

‘A crank caller.’

‘Maybe someone you know who comes in the shop?’

‘But how would they have my home number?’ Alison prods at her lasagne with a fork.

‘Good point. So, it must be someone who knows you, or Adam.’ Julie moves the tray from her knees to the coffee table. ‘Or more likely, it’s just a dodgy line.’

Alison stares at the screen. She’s not so sure. ‘Whoever it was, they were listening, waiting for me to react.’

That night, as soon as her eyes shut, she can hear the faint sound of the clock ticking every long drawn out second. She can’t stop thinking about the phone calls, all the possibilities of who it could be. Is Adam trying to frighten her with all these weird things going on around the house? Why would he do that though, he’s not a cruel person. Her eyes flick open. There’s a scurrying sound above. She sits up, shivering at the thought of stiff long tails and twitching whiskers. Grabbing the duvet, she bundles into the spare room and wraps herself in the puffy material. Only her face is poking out, like a butterfly waiting to emerge. Whoever it was trying to phone, she has a feeling they’ll call again.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Max: April 2017

Max spotted Ali as soon as he pushed his way into the cafe. The hum of voices and clang of cups seemed to drain into the background. Her hair was different, straightened with a reddish colour streaked across the crown. Butterflies rose in his stomach. He slipped his wedding ring into his pocket.

She raised her hand as if it was possible for anyone not to have seen her. His grin widened as he went over. All rational thoughts fell away, along with his life as Max Saunders, discarded like a mask.