Saskia walks into her hallway, steps out of her wellies and slides down onto her backside, with her spine pushed up against the radiator. That was a God-awful walk. Not because it was freezing cold, although it was, and that didn’t help, and not even because she had to pick up two separate bags of poo. But because she got the fear. The scratching of panic between her shoulder blades that she was being followed. She reads all the horror stories about London parks after dark, the muggings, the senseless attacks. She reads about the women who have been murdered, often for no other reason than being in a killer’s eyeline when they chose to strike. So she knows the risks. But she has always refused to let them curtail her life, because freedom, equality, are important to her. She believes that she is entitled to walk alone safely after dark, and so she must practise what she preaches.

But tonight she was scared. She couldn’t stop thinking that someone was behind her, that she’s got a stalker of her own.

While she can barely admit it to herself, she wonders if it’s jealousy. When Beth first told her about Mark, Saskia’s first thought hadn’t been for Beth’s safety. It had been much less charitable – well of course you’d be the one with a stalker, like some sort of celebrity, wouldn’t you – and she can’t help wondering if she’s created an imaginary stalker of her own as a way of competing with her supposed friend. But that doesn’t really make sense because she doesn’t have an imagination; she’s not that kind of writer. She might embellish facts slightly to make them more exciting, but her brain isn’t wired to make things up from scratch. Could she have dreamed up the feeling of eyes on the back of her neck? Or the shadow that seemed attached to her by some invisible, ominous leash?

‘Are you comfortable down there?’

Saskia looks up and gives her husband a sardonic smile. ‘Just thawing out.’

Tim nods thoughtfully. ‘Would you move for a glass of wine?’

‘Obviously.’ Saskia shakes the strange thoughts out of her head and holds both hands out for Tim to pull her up.

‘Jesus, your hands are freezing.’

Saskia sighs. ‘It wasn’t my all-time favourite walk. Cold, dark; a bit scary if I’m honest.’

‘Well, at least you’re back in one piece. And you’re always saying that women should be able to walk alone at night without feeling scared.’

Saskia heads down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. ‘You’re right, I suppose. Maybe Beth having a stalker has put me on edge. Reminded me that, very frustratingly, men’s physical dominance means they’ve always got the upper hand.’

‘I think you’re being a bit dramatic. It’s Clapham Common, not downtown Caracas.’