Saskia snaps her focus back to the grumpy woman on the phone who is – she has to admit – doing Saskia’s bidding. ‘Did you find her file?’ she asks.

‘Yeah, there was some mental health stuff,’ the woman starts.

Saskia’s pulse quickens and she leans forward. ‘Oh?’

‘Not while she was here, but before, as a teenager. She put it in the notes on her application form because it disrupted her education – she missed her GCSEs and got some random Australian qualifications instead.’

‘Disrupted how?’

‘She spent a couple of months in a mental health unit in Newbury.’

‘What for? What was wrong with her?’

‘How am I supposed to know? I’m not a bloody doctor. Anyway, it’s confidential that sort of stuff, isn’t it? And grounds for discrimination if I turned her application down, not that I would. I remember her now. A bit awkward with humans, I’ll give you that, but a natural with the dogs; they all loved her. I’m sorry to hear she’s struggling again now.’ There’s genuine sadness in her voice and Saskia feels a stab of guilt for stretching the truth. She shifts on the stool, eyes the bottle of wine on the island, looks at her watch.

‘Don’t worry, I rate her too,’ she appeases. ‘I’ll make sure she gets the help she needs. Anyway, thank you. I’d better go.’ Saskia ends the call and taps her fingernails against the quartz surface, one at a time. So Kat does have a history of mental illness. And being in residential care for two months, forgoing her education, all points to it being a serious condition. Surely that’s enough of a red flag for Saskia to tell Beth, to warn her what Kat’s been saying. Although maybe she should keep quiet about researching Kat; ironically, that could make it look like Saskia’s the obsessive one. She clicks into WhatsApp and scribes a message.

Beth, your dog walker is WEIRD. Stood outside your house. Said she knew you 18 yrs ago. That you were FRIENDS. Assuming not?? Maybe delusional? Idk. Hope you’re okay xxx

She stares at the two ticks, willing them to go blue, and then they do, and she lets out an involuntary gasp, which is ridiculous because what else was she expecting to happen? But as she waits, gripping her phone, nothing more happens. There’s no Beth typing flag. Why isn’t Beth responding? ‘Shit,’ she mumbles under her breath, suddenly deflated. Surely her message warrants an immediate reaction?