‘I’m not cooking for you every night. Get yourself a wife if you want that,’ I retorted, grateful the banter had resumed.

‘Well, I’m on the lookout. In fact, I’m inundated, as you can imagine.’ It was as if a cross word hadn’t passed between us.

Ben helped me to wash up even though I protested and then we finished the bottle of wine, watching the shadows the candle created flicker around the room.

‘Thanks for dinner, it was lovely. You cook a mean steak.’ Ben’s brown eyes twinkled, his eyelashes long and dark. Ones women would kill for. My chest fluttered, I’d seen something different in Ben.

It may have been the clothes, or his hair, or even the wine, but when we said goodnight I didn’t protest when Ben leaned in to kiss my lips. He stared at me afterwards, as if surprised by his actions. There was no awkwardness and we giggled, unsure how to proceed. He stepped closer again, over the threshold into my room. It wasn’t until Ben placed his hand on my cheek as we kissed that he appeared. I was back there, behind the café, his gloved hand stroking my face. My throat tightened, and I pushed Ben’s arm away, the moment gone.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, retreating into the hallway. Did he think I was a tease? If only he could see inside my messed-up head.

‘It’s me, sorry. It’s just he did that.’ I raised my hand to my face, tears springing from my eyes. On tiptoes I gave Ben a quick kiss on the cheek and slipped inside my bedroom, closing the door on the exchange in the hallway. I was an idiot. Could Ben and I be more than friends? I was paralysed, unable to move forward. It was ridiculous, but how could I change it? Maybe it would take time?

Perhaps if the police had taken more of an interest. If they’d found him and I knew he wasn’t still out there; probably wandering the streets and hurting other women, I’d be able to get over it. Maybe he wasn’t looking for other women. What if he had only been looking for me? No, surely not. He was a predator, an opportunist. I was sure it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It couldn’t have been targeted, could it? Had I been followed?

With my mind whirring, the sleep that followed was broken. As it was every night since it had happened. Nightmares continued to plague my subconscious. I’d have to go back to the doctors’, perhaps I could get some sleeping pills? In the most recent nightmare it was Ben chasing me through the streets, but when he caught me, his face morphed into my assailant. His grip was so strong, I couldn’t get away.