I told her the whole story about Ben and Mel’s relationship. His obsession with her. About the message that had appeared on my computer, and Ben’s mission to beat me by whatever means – fair or foul.

‘He’s been in contact with me today, on Messenger.’

‘Really?’ She looked hopeful at this. ‘What has he said? Can I see the messages?’

I handed my phone to her and she scrolled through the messages, the look of hope slowly leaving her face.

‘Who’s David Bramley?’

‘A pseudonym. David B., Ben D., reverse the initials, do you see?’

‘He doesn’t mention me or Alice.’

‘No.’

She handed the phone back.

‘He’s not asked you about me?’

‘No.’

‘Tell me about when you saw him. How did he look?’

She listened as I described our near-meeting at the country park. She asked again quietly, hopefully, whether Ben had looked OK. Then there was silence for a moment between us, each caught in the very personal pain of betrayal.

‘I wish I’d never found those damned pictures on his phone. Never found out about all the lies. Given the chance to turn the clock back to Sunday morning, I would just put that mobile back in his desk drawer, turn the key and never open it again.’

‘But you did see the photos.’

‘Yes. I did.’

‘And so here we are.’

She looked as if she might cry.

‘Yes.’ It came out as a whisper.

‘Look, it’s done now,’ I said, surprised at how yesterday’s anger had deserted her. ‘Neither of us can put the genie back in the bottle. Maybe it’s better that way, better for everyone to move on.’

‘I just wish he’d call me. Wherever he is.’

Something came back to me from the story in the Standard.

‘What about Alex Kolnik?’

‘What about him?’

‘Ben drove him out of business a few months ago. Big guy, maybe six foot four, ponytail, goatee beard, trench coat. Brain the size of a planet, apparently, but looks like something out of Sons of Anarchy. His nickname is Kalashnikov because of his initials – A.K.’

‘Have you seen him recently?’

‘There was a chap like that, came to the house the other week. Him and a couple of others.’

‘What happened?’

‘Ben answered the door and they talked for a bit, it got heated, there was shouting and swearing. Alex was threatening all kinds of things. Ben ended up getting one of his shotguns to make him leave, then slammed the door in his face. Alex reversed his Range Rover into my rose bushes when he left, spun his wheels so they went everywhere. Made a real mess.’

Something about the story made a connection in my head, but it was just out of reach. Just beyond my sightline.

‘Did you tell the police about it?’

She sighed.