‘You mentioned him, and his job one day and I tracked him down on the school website,’ said Jonathan, as if it was the sort of thing any rational person would do. ‘Initially I assumed the school caretaker would be some semi-retired grandad, but,’ he added with another menacing sneer as his eyes returned to Beamish, ‘apparently not.’

‘Did you know who he was when you turned up here before?’ I demanded, the puzzle pieces finally slipping into place as my brain began to unscramble everything.

Jonathan didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Of course, he had known then. I daresay his internet stalking was the real reason he’d turned up and tried to drag me away.

‘Were you with him last weekend?’ Beamish asked, pointing at Jonathan.

‘Yes,’ I whispered, feeling ashamed. ‘Yes.’

‘And did Dolly know?’

I nodded, unable to say it out loud.

‘Right,’ he said, making for the door. ‘I see.’

Of course, he didn’t see because I hadn’t had the chance to make him. All he had in plain sight was the man from some staged, sunny online photographs brandishing a ring box and offering me a happy ever after. He had no idea what the sickening truth beneath the glossy veneer was.

‘I’ll give the pair of you some privacy then,’ he said huskily.

‘No,’ I said, reaching out and grabbing his arm, ‘please don’t go.’

He looked down at my hand, my jumper had stretched back again and the bruises on my wrist looked even worse now they were lit by the bulb in the ceiling as opposed to the torch. Beamish looked quickly back at Jonathan and narrowed his eyes. I needed to think fast.

‘Like I told you yesterday, Jonathan,’ I said firmly, turning to stand between him and Beamish. ‘I’m not moving with you, I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, and I certainly don’t want to be your wife.’

Jonathan shook his head and raised his eyebrows.

‘Oh right,’ he sneered, looking first at Beamish and then at me. ‘I get it. You’ve moved on already.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ I spat. ‘Beamish is just a friend.’

‘Oh really.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘a real friend who has shown me what a healthy friendship looks like as opposed to the sick and twisted one that you turned ours and our relationship into.’

I was saying the words for Beamish’s benefit, not Jonathan’s. I wanted him to know how much I valued the time we had spent together but his stony expression when I glanced back indicated I wasn’t reaching him at all. I couldn’t blame him. Had I just discovered that Beamish had a partner tucked away somewhere, I would have felt deceived too. My reaction to seeing him casually chatting with the usherette was proof enough of that.