I loved that you had taken to Daphne but I wasn’t sure I trusted her enough yet to collect you from playschool. She wouldn’t know who to look out for. If he came for us. I’d told myself regularly over the last three years that he’d never find us. How would he know where to look? But that still didn’t stop me worrying. He was a clever man. A rich man. He would no doubt have his ways, his spies. I could never relax, never stop looking over my shoulder.

‘Maybe one day, honey, but not yet, okay? And she’ll be at work anyway.’

Your face fell until you saw your teacher, Miss Tilling, and then you ran over to her, your dark curls – so like his – flying out behind you.

I made sure Miss Tilling had ushered you inside the classroom, like I did every morning before leaving. When I was satisfied that you were safe I walked away, stopping at Melissa’s café to get a hot chocolate. Melissa seemed very interested in Daphne and wanted to know all about her. I was careful not to say too much. Melissa was one of the biggest gossips in Beggars Nook, and if Daphne was trying to keep a low profile I owed it to her to be discreet.

Melissa looked bored when she realized she wasn’t going to get any interesting titbit from me, turning away to serve the next customer. As I stepped out of the shop I bumped into Joel.

Joel who, before now, had been my saviour. A reassuring presence. The first man in a long while I had trusted. Who, after that first time we met, had always looked out for me, asked if I needed anything. When the snow came the year before, he knocked on the door and offered to clear my driveway. He was the one I called when I had a burst pipe. I’d let him into my small life. But when I imagined him feeling up Daphne and making her life hell when she turned him down, it made my skin crawl.

I was about to walk past him without speaking but he stopped me. ‘Hey, Rose. I haven’t seen you much lately, how are you doing?’

I’d noticed since Daphne moved in that he hadn’t been over to offer any help or even to see how I was. A guilty conscience, I decided.

‘I’m fine,’ I replied curtly.

He looked crestfallen. He had a checked scarf pulled up to his chin and wore a black wool Crombie. The tip of his nose was red. Despite my anger with him my treacherous heart betrayed me and I felt myself softening when I remembered how kind he’d been to me.

He looked troubled. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ He dug his hands into his pockets. ‘I get the feeling you’re cross with me.’