‘… and I was just, you know, well, I was nearly there and I was going down Star Road, not really thinking about anything, and just at that moment I looked up at one of the houses. It was a terraced house, you know those little two-up two-downs, looked a bit run-down from the outside, paint peeling and the front garden was a mess but you know, they are.’ As I am talking, I remember that I was on Star Road because I had taken a detour. I was on my way to the cinema and had been doing some errands in town first. It was a lovely sunny day and I was mildly annoyed I had arranged to see an early show with my friend Katie when days such as this were so rare that summer. If we’d got tickets for the later show, we could have had a drink in the sun somewhere. So I thought that instead of going down Bishop’s Road I would take the pedestrian and cycle path that ran alongside Boongate. It was well away from the road, although you could still hear the roar of traffic. There was greenery on the other side for a lot of it – not enough greenery for the illusion of a country walk but it was quieter and pleasanter than going along the main road. I had just crossed Star Road and ahead of me the pedestrian path curved to the right and out of sight. I knew the roundabout was not far beyond that curve but also knew that for a short while, you are out of sight of both the houses and the road – and just at that moment, I saw a man ahead, on the path, facing me but stopped still, staring at me with an unmistakable look of appraisal. He was barefoot – his feet were filthy. He had a can of something in his hand but the hand swung loose at his side and I guessed the can was empty. His hair was brown and spiky – he looked wizened but I couldn’t tell what age he was. He stared at me, mouth slack and wet-lipped, and immediately I did what any woman in my position would have done – I turned right and strode confidently down the road, away from him. Damn, I thought, I’ll be late now.

I did not mention this bit to Matty in the way women often don’t tell these small anecdotes to men – because men often want you to explain the problem. Why were you scared if it was broad daylight? Why didn’t you just walk right past him? Why were you even on that path in the first place, if you knew it was secluded? So to Matty, all I said was, I was in a hurry.