“I hadn’t even thought of it when I went to the house. He was supposed to be working from home and I don’t think he ever drank when he was working.” She frowned, as if that thought just explained something from the past. “When I first got there he was really friendly. I didn’t even think he might be drinking. But then I heard him in the kitchen when the viewers had gone and I thought he was pouring a drink. Two, actually. The police officer checked the glass, remember? And when I . . .” She faltered. “When he was shouting at me, his face was right up next to mine.” She moved her hand so that the palm was an inch away from her face. “I could smell alcohol then.”

Involuntarily I winced. “That must have been so scary.”

She shrugged but I could see her eyes had filled with tears. “I was used to it.” She was quiet for a moment, then she said, “I thought he was coping. I thought he was okay now.” She dabbed her eyes again. “You know, he’d been lovely to me since I left. Really lovely. Supportive. Helpful. He was just like he used to be, years ago. I thought he wanted me to come back to him. I even thought I might. I could feel myself relenting. I was so lonely on my own. But then I realized what he was doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was pulling me in so that he could dump me. He wanted to be the one to end things. He told me that his girlfriend was pregnant.” She faltered. “I hadn’t realized he meant you.”

“I wasn’t his girlfriend,” I said firmly.

She ignored that, as though she didn’t care whether I was or not. “And when I left him, things started to happen to me. I thought someone was coming into my flat. I couldn’t see how that could happen and they didn’t do anything much, but I just had a feeling.” She swallowed. “One night when I was asleep, too. And I found he’d got hold of the spare key by pretending to be my boyfriend.”

I drew in my breath. “That must have been terrifying.”

“It was. It was part of the reason I thought of going back to him. For safety. Over the last few weeks, I’d thought he was my friend.” Her voice rose. “Why did I think that, when he hadn’t been my friend for years?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Ruby, for weeks he was telling me that he wanted to be with me. As a family, with the baby. He was convinced it was his.”

We sat in silence.

Eventually, she said, “And the baby’s definitely Harry’s?”

I nodded. “Thank God it is.”