‘Jacob?’ I answer, my voice heavy with concern.

There’s a frantic intake of breath at the other end as if he’d resigned himself to me not picking up. ‘She knows,’ he blurts out. ‘She knows where I am.’

‘What?’ I ask, though why, I don’t know. I understand exactly what he’s saying and it chills me to the bone. ‘How? How can she?’

‘I . . . I don’t know,’ he stutters. ‘She just does . . . she’s called me and . . .’ His voice tails off.

‘Jacob?’ I ask frantically. ‘Jacob, are you still there?’

‘Y-yeah, but how the hell . . .? I mean, I’ve been so careful. There’s no way she could have . . . if she knows, then . . . I don’t know . . . she’ll . . . I don’t know what she’ll do.’ He’s rambling and becoming more incoherent with every syllable.

‘OK, try to stay calm and tell me what’s happened,’ I say, in an effort to get him to take a breath.

The sudden intake of air sounds like it’s disguising a sob.

‘Jacob, it’s going to be OK,’ I say gently. ‘Just tell me what’s happened.’

‘Sh-she called me,’ he says. ‘About ten minutes ago, and said that she knew where I was and was going to come for me.’

‘OK, where are you now?’ I ask, praying that he has had the wherewithal to get away from the apartment.

‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘I’m just walking around. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Listen to me,’ I say, going into the hall and picking up my purse and keys from the console table. ‘Can you get a taxi to the Royal Garden hotel in Canterbury?’

‘Y-yes,’ he says, hesitantly. ‘I can get an Uber.’

‘No!’ I snap, more abruptly than I mean to. ‘If she has access to your Uber account, she’ll be able to see where you are and where you’re going.’ I grab my leather jacket from the newel post of the banister and shrug it on. ‘Call a cab and I’ll meet you there.’

A dampness has formed under my arms by the time I’ve parked the car and am striding along the high street. I briefly wonder about calling the police, but then almost as quickly, I ask myself what they’d be able to do in this situation. Jacob’s wife hasn’t done anything. Yet.

I’m waiting outside the hotel entrance when a white Vauxhall pulls up and Jacob almost falls out of it. It’s as if his wife is in there, quite literally kicking him to the kerb. His face is ashen, and as I take his arm and guide him through the revolving doors and into the lobby, I can feel his whole body trembling.