I’d spent the rest of the concert feeling like I was being watched; though whether by him or his wife, I couldn’t be sure. He’d have no reason to tell her I was there – by rights she wouldn’t have known I even existed – yet I still felt I was in the disadvantaged position of someone knowing exactly where I was, training their eyes on me, whilst I only had a sea of a thousand faces to focus on. A bit like how I feel now.

When I get to King Street, I wonder how to approach this. Do I ask for Mr or Mrs Talbot? If a woman answers the door, should I assume that it’s Vanessa? If it’s her that’s setting me up, she’s sure to recognize me as she’s already gone to extreme lengths to find out everything there is to know about me. But if someone else is involved in this, Vanessa may just be a pawn in the game, being moved and placed to wherever she needs to be, ready for my capture.

Even though I must have walked down this road before, it’s the first time I really take in the houses, which stand cheek to jowl with their neighbours, their front doors opening directly onto the pavement.

Number twenty-one is halfway down on the right-hand side, adorned with red geraniums standing erect in painted window boxes. It looks like a friendly house, as if nice people live there; not people who would frame someone else for a crime they didn’t commit.

I press the antique gold bell and wait breathlessly, not knowing whether the door is going to be opened by a stranger – or someone I know.

‘Hello?’ says a woman with long brown curls that look like they’ve just been coiffed at an expensive salon. ‘Can I help you?’ If she recognizes me, she doesn’t show it.

She looks about the same age as me but could well be ten years older, judging by her taut, wrinkle-free brow and feline features.

I clear my throat to speak. ‘Erm, hello, my name’s Naomi Chandler,’ I say, watching her carefully. Her expression doesn’t change, though I don’t know whether it’s because it can’t or because the name means nothing to her.

‘I’m looking for Michael Talbot,’ I press on. ‘Does he live here?’

She smiles sweetly and holds the door open. ‘Yes, he’s expecting you, do come in.’