This is the last thing I expect him to say. The very last. I was out at Lydia Bascombe’s office this morning for my appointment, but that doesn’t mean the police were here. They must have been at the house next door. Eugene must be mistaken.

Lucy: Must have been one of the neighbours. No cops here this morning.

Eugene: But there were. I saw them. They knocked on your door for ages.

Adrenalin fizzes through my veins, making my fingers shake so that I can hardly type.

Lucy: This must be a mistake.

Eugene: Did you have a break-in recently? Or maybe your car was tampered with?

Lucy: No. Nothing like that.

Eugene: I’ve upset you. Sorry! Perhaps there’s been a development in your case?

That would be the logical explanation, but my brain and body don’t think so. My reptilian brain has woken up and taken over. I feel as though the police have found me out. But what could they have found out? I haven’t done anything.

Lucy: After two years? Unlikely. My case is gathering dust at the bottom of a filing cabinet.

Eugene: It must have been for something else. But don’t worry about it. If they really want to speak to you they’ll come back, or phone. How have you been since I saw you?

We last saw each other at the comedy club—the underwhelming date that L. Bascombe tried to convince me wasn’t my fault. But it was. When a social butterfly and a social tortoise don’t get along, it is always the tortoise’s fault. I doubt the butterfly would have contacted me again if he hadn’t been curious about the police. Maybe I have something to thank them for.

Lucy: Okay.

I look at this response before I send it. Even the tortoise in me knows it is inadequate. Some elaboration is required. But what? I already told him about my op-ed for The New York Times and the social media campaign that never happened. What else is there?

Did I ever know how to do this? Was I good at social banter before the rape knocked it out of me?

Lucy: Okay, thanks. Working mostly. How have you been?

This is better than “okay,” but not by much.

Eugene: Busy. Need some down time. Been thinking of walking the Olifantsbos coastal path. Would you like to come?

Lucy: I would, thanks. Are you getting a group together?

I send this before I have time to think about it. It is an unsubtle way of asking whether this is a date. I should have waited.

Eugene: I can if you like. We could invite your friend Moira, and maybe my cousin Raz.