‘No, of course not.’ Noting the instant suspicion in his eyes, she gave a brief account of what had happened.

‘Christ, why did you indulge him, even on the doorstep?’ he said, when she’d finished. ‘It’s like you feel sorry for the creep.’ His voice was dull with anger. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t called the police. The bastard should be fucking arrested.’

Connie was aware of a hissing coming from the kitchen and got up. The potatoes were boiling over, the starchy water pooling around the burners. She turned the heat down. Looking at Devan, she said, ‘And say what? That someone I know is hanging about, buying me gloves and ravioli?’

‘He doesn’t have to do those things stalkers usually do – like constant messaging or damaging property or violence – with the new stalking laws. Believe me, Connie, I’ve checked it out. Even just following someone, watching them, if they do it persistently and you don’t like it, is against the law and could end in a fine or a jail sentence, certainly a restraining order.’ He frowned at her. ‘Why won’t you do anything to stop him?’

She hesitated, wondering if Devan was right. ‘It’s not that I’m dragging my feet. It’s just … well, I’d feel idiotic trying to explain to the police. What he does is so nebulous, so hard to pin down. He moves in near us, but everyone likes him, welcomes him. You like him. Where’s the proof that he’s stalking? He might have just liked our village – plenty do. There are no texts or anything concrete. The ravioli could be interpreted in lots of ways. You know how plausible, how polite Jared is … and so far he hasn’t harmed me … not physically, anyway. Although he seemed pretty crazy the other night.’

Devan was back on the sofa. He looked at her with sudden concern. ‘Thank God you didn’t let him in,’ he said.

She nodded, grateful for the sign that he still cared about her safety. The atmosphere between them had changed. They were, temporarily at least, on the same side.

‘Where is he now?’

‘I’ve no idea. And I have no idea how he found me here. His godmother lives on the other side of the Heath, but unless he just happened to spot me … I don’t know, Devan, he’s like a phantom. Comes and goes at will. And every time I talk to him, I fool myself that this time I’ve found a way to convince him.’

Devan frowned. ‘You think he might be out there right now, watching you?’