‘It’s more a case of absorbing than forgetting. Jed was part of your and Devan’s life. Nothing’s going to change that. But you can absorb him, now he’s not an issue any more. Reduce him to just a thread in a long and steadfast marriage. You should both be proud of how you’ve survived.’

‘When did you get to be so wise about infidelity?’

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

She frowned. ‘You … Brooks? Surely not.’

Neil cleared his throat noncommittally.

‘When? Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me, Neil?’

‘Same reason you didn’t tell me about Jared, I expect.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘It was one night. Years ago. We’re long over it.’

Before she could take in what Neil was saying, or question him further, he was asking, ‘So where’s our beloved stalker now?’

‘No idea. I’m telling myself he’s gone for good. Which I’m trying to believe.’ It was true that she hadn’t sensed anything eerie or strange since being back, glimpsed no shape, no face, no image she thought might be his. The village seemed like a haven after the London streets, which she’d felt had actually vibrated with his presence.

Neil looked sceptical. ‘He’s finally given up? Do stalkers do that?’ When she didn’t immediately reply, he went on, as if she were challenging the label. ‘He might fall short on the bunny-boiling cred, but he’s definitely a stalker, Con.’

‘Yeah, OK. It doesn’t really matter what he is or isn’t, does it? He’s out of my life now.’ Connie was irritated that Neil was making her focus on Jared, prodding the worry, like a child with a stick, that he might reappear. She wasn’t sure her marriage would stand it. Devan had kicked off again yesterday.

They’d been walking in single file in the woods with Riley. It was a gorgeous late January day, almost hot in the sunshine. Connie was feeling good, until Devan, gazing straight ahead as they crested the hill, had reopened the wound.

‘Couldn’t you see, right from the off, that there was something creepy about Jared?’ he asked, sounding pained. ‘Turning up like that at your hotels without you telling him where you were would have sounded loud alarm bells to me.’

Connie forbore to remind Devan that he hadn’t found Jared the least bit ‘creepy’ when he’d met him. Neither could she let on that at the time it had felt exciting, flattering. ‘The information’s all on the website,’ she replied. ‘It was just a game for him, I suppose.’

‘And you, Connie? Was it a game for you, too?’ The bitterness was back, acrid as burned coffee. ‘Way more fun than hanging out with your grumpy old man back home, I imagine.’