Realizing she was shivering, she pulled her heavy cardigan from the chair back and wrapped it around her, hurrying over to the fridge. She grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring herself a large measure with a trembling hand, wanting to scream out her fear, shout to the heavens until it left her in peace. And longing so much for her husband. His embrace would be the one thing guaranteed to calm her.

It was a while before she could think coherently, her brain still flooded with fight-or-flight hormones. But as she began to come down from the panic, her initial relief that Jared was gone started to wane. It was the final look he’d levelled at her that shook her the most: his eyes had appeared almost … fanatical. It was the only word that fitted.

Connie sat for a long time at the kitchen table, clutching her empty glass. Her head was fizzing, like a firework about to explode, her cheeks flushed from the wine and the heat in the room.

Did he get it this time? she asked herself, over and over. Will he leave me alone? She had never been scared before that he might hurt her. But she’d felt physically threatened tonight, terrified that he would push his way into the house. There was real craziness in his eyes … and she felt his obsession for her like a gun aimed at her head.

She got up, boiling hot and restless, ripping off her cardigan. She desperately craved escape from the claustrophobia of her thoughts, longed to take deep breaths of cold night air and clear her head. It would be heaving on the hill tonight: churchgoers off to Midnight Mass, revellers on their way home from Christmas Eve parties – this wasn’t the country. For a mad second she thought she might join them, just to be among people, to feel the comforting presence of normal human beings. She even pulled on her coat and boots, found a Fair Isle beret of Tessa’s hooked on the coat stand.

But when she got to the front door, her courage failed her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to open it, to risk leaving the safety of the house. He was out there somewhere, even if she couldn’t see him. Watching her. Waiting for her. He might not approach her, but she would feel his eyes on her, maybe catch a fleeting glimpse of his face in the crowd – real or imagined. She leaned on the door, her painfully compressed heart suddenly making her breath ragged.