Something nudged Connie from sleep. Blinking, she saw the clock display read 1:34. She rolled over onto her back and peered into the semi-darkness of the room, wondering what had woken her. Then she froze, her every fibre buzzing, instantly on high alert. She could just make out a figure, looming in the shadows at the end of the bed. She gave a loud gasp, lurching upright, the duvet clutched to herself in alarm.

Paralysed with fear, she managed to reach out a hand and violently shake her husband, her eyes still fixed on the dark intruder, who said nothing, just stood there, stock still.

Devan shifted, mumbled, ‘What?’

She shook him again. ‘Wake up, for Christ’s sake.’

This time he heard her. He turned over and jumped when he, too, caught sight of the shadowy form, cursing as he fumbled for the bedside lamp.

Jared blinked in the light. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

Her husband leaped out of bed. ‘What the fuck?’ His body rigid with tension, he hovered, fixing Jared with a wary stare, but clearly not sure what to do next. Glancing at Connie, he discreetly patted his hand down by his side as if to say, ‘Tread carefully.’ It occurred to her that he thought Jared might be armed.

‘I needed to be here.’ Jared spoke again. ‘I hope you understand, Connie.’ He was dressed in jeans and a navy polo-neck sweater, but his normally smoothed-back hair was flopping over his face and he clearly hadn’t shaved in a while. He was kneading his fingers together in front of him.

Connie was trembling so much she could barely get the words out, but she spoke as calmly as possible. ‘What are you doing, Jared?’

Devan began to edge round the bed, his eyes fixed firmly on the intruder. She watched, hardly breathing. The air in the room seemed to vibrate. ‘Don’t …’ she whispered to her husband, terrified that Jared might pull out a knife.

As Devan got closer, Jared held up his hands to fend him off, backing against the door.

‘Please, I’m not going to harm you,’ he said, twisting his palms to and fro in the air, as if to prove he didn’t have a weapon. ‘I just …’ He stopped and seemed disoriented for a moment. Looking pleadingly at Connie, he said, ‘Can we talk?’

Devan, ignoring his request, pushed him aside and reached for the door. But it was firmly locked. ‘Where’s the key?’ Devan demanded.

Jared shrugged, blinked. ‘Do you know how important you are to me? Both of you. You’ve been so kind –’

Her husband cursed and swung round, shouting, ‘Ring the police!’ When she didn’t immediately move, he added, ‘Now, Connie!’