Beth checked her phone’s screen. Sighed and put it back in her pocket.

‘What if he isn’t just blowing off steam? What if it’s more than that?’

‘What do you mean, Bee?’

‘What if it’s another woman?’

Mel smiled, shaking her head.

‘Ben would never do that.’

‘How do you know?’

‘He just wouldn’t, would he? He’s not that kind of guy.’

15

As soon as Beth left, I did another full circuit of the house to check all the windows were closed. Double-checked the kitchen door and slid both deadbolts across. Mel followed me, saying nothing, William clinging to her like a baby monkey. She had the little vertical line between her eyebrows that appeared when she was stressed or upset, but she seemed to feel safer with me in the room. And right now I wanted to keep both of them – the two most important people in my world – close by.

‘What’s going on with Ben?’ I said, locking the patio door. ‘Why is he threatening us all of a sudden?’

She shook her head.

‘I don’t know. No idea. It’s crazy.’

Eventually we pulled the curtains in the lounge and I put CBeebies on for William. TV in the daytime was a deviation from the norm but he seemed to sense that it was better not to question the break in routine, in case I changed my mind. Smart kid. I felt a pang of worry for him as he sat on the rug watching Chuggington, a toy car in each hand, oblivious to the mess the adults around him had created.

Should I keep a weapon handy in case Ben turned up out of the blue? What could I arm myself with, if I had ten seconds to grab something? Kitchen knives, a rolling pin, a hammer from the toolbox. Not much, but better than nothing.

From our bedroom window I surveyed the street, half expecting to see Ben’s white Porsche Cayenne careering round the corner and screeching to a halt outside our house. But there was not much going on. A couple of teenagers from a few houses down were doing tricks up and down the kerb on their skateboards. Across the street, a woman in her fifties was walking a chubby golden retriever with its tongue hanging out.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

No sign of Ben.

This was stupid. I could help to put things right, myself, right now. Rebuild some bridges. I punched Ben’s number into my new mobile and it rang six times before it went to Ben’s terse, no-nonsense voicemail.

‘This is Ben Delaney. Leave a message.’ Beep.

I hesitated, hit end and dialled his number again. This time it went to voicemail after one ring.

‘This is Ben Delaney. Leave a message.’ Beep.

‘Ben, it’s Joe. Joe Lynch. I just wanted to speak to you about the other night. I’m sorry – I was out of order. I honestly didn’t know what was going on and I’m sorry about what happened. Give me a bell if you want to talk about anything. This is my new mobile number, I’ve got a new phone. Anyway, I hope you’re OK.’