‘Ouch, stop it.’ I flap him away.

It can’t be. I must be imagining things.

‘Rosie!’ I might also have closed the distance between us, and be leaning in so close to Noah, I’m standing on his foot.

‘Nooooo. It can’t be!’ I peer over his shoulder and squeeze my eyes into a squint. Which is sod all help, apart from adding a film-worthy softness to the surroundings. And out of the blurriness the monster in the blue top keeps coming. It’s like watching a horror film: every second brings the enemy closer.

‘Can’t be what?’ Noah turns and looks, then turns back to me. ‘What’s going on, what’s up?’

‘Will you stop shaking me,’ I say angrily, focussing on him for a moment. To be honest I’ve got a feeling he is working up to slapping my face, and I’m not having that. ‘It’s Gabe.’

‘Who?’ He looks puzzled for a second, then it dawns on him. ‘Oh, Gabe. Christ, really? Where?’ His eyes open a bit wider, and he turns back round to where I’m looking.

‘Over there, the guy with,’ I swallow, ‘a pram.’

‘I can’t … where exactly?’

‘For God’s sake, over there, by the entrance to the park. The one with a fucking big baby-carrying machine!’ I hiss. ‘I’m not exactly going to point.’ Throw a sharp object maybe, but not point. ‘Stop staring, he’ll see you looking.’

Gabe is getting closer and now I can see him quite clearly. At first, I thought, or hoped, it was just somebody similar, that I’d make a mistake, that we’d laugh it off. Once my heart rate returned to normal and I’d stopped hyperventilating.

No mistake. He’s quite distinctive.

‘I really can’t …’

I cannot believe Noah can’t spot him. Okay, he’s never seen the guy (I made sure he only saw the messages) but there isn’t exactly a surfeit of male pram-pushers. ‘Oh, fuck’s sake.’ I mutter under my breath. ‘Forget it, sorry, I’ve got to—’ It’s a split-second decision.

Gabe is heading straight towards us. Him and his bloody children. A baby and a toddler. Any second now he will spot me, and my humiliation will be complete.

I can’t let him catch me staring at him. I can’t. I need time to take this in, to process it. To decide whether kneeing him in the groin in the street will have me carted away for GBH. And whether it will be worth it if I am. At the moment I am leaning towards ‘maybe’ and ‘yes’. Bastard.

I yank Noah round so he is facing me, and put one hand, palm flat on his chest. ‘Sorry, really sorry. Here goes.’ The last bit I mutter to myself.

‘What are you—?’

‘Shush.’ Gabe is close. Any second now he will be right up to us.

I look at Noah and take a deep breath. You can do this, Rosie. You have got to do this. I close my eyes, then open them again – just to check. Gabe is even closer. Any second now I’ll be able to see the colour of his eyes. Shit.