He laughed. ‘Come off it! I don’t believe you. That’s what you’d get for a reunion. Only has to be three weeks, headlining one of those retro eighties tours. The promoters are desperate to have Cohen top the bill, how about that! You don’t even have to leave the UK.’

‘Iain, I’m hanging up now, and if you ever contact me again, I’m going to report you to the police for harassing me.’

‘Wait! You can’t. I mean, you can’t want to say no to that, surely?’ He tried another tack. ‘Even if you don’t need the money, you must have charities you support. Think what they could do with five hundred grand!’

He found me, he found me, he found me. The panicky voice inside her head swelled, drowning out his words, and she only heard ‘charities you support’. It took all her effort to keep her tone low and calm.

‘So, you’re suggesting I quit the job I love, get in a tour bus with a load of blokes who hate me for ruining their careers, stand on a stage in black PVC – when I’m over fifty – and not even keep the money? Plus, have the world’s press looking for all the skeletons in my cupboards, demanding to know why I quit in the first place. Are you off your head? I mean, you of all people should know why I’d never in a million years contemplate it, not for all the money in the world.’

‘What do you mean, me of all people?’

She tried not to snap at him. ‘You know, Iain. You know what happened to me: why I left the band the first time. You talked to me right before—’

‘Yah, and the police talked to me! Grilled me for hours, they did. Where was I? Who was I with? What was I doing? Yadda yadda.’

She maintained a stony silence. She couldn’t just hang up and block him, it was too risky. He knew where she lived now, and he didn’t give up easily. Everything was ruined.

‘What do you want, Meredith?’

Perhaps it was because his voice suddenly softened, or perhaps it was the directness of the question – one she asked herself a lot but that nobody else ever had, not even Pete – but her throat tightened, and for a moment she couldn’t speak.

She tried to deflect it: ‘Right now, I want you to go away and swear you won’t tell anybody where I live or what I do.’

‘No … I mean, what do you want out of your life? You don’t have a husband – or wife – or kids. How do you want people to remember you?’

‘Well, it’s sure as hell not by having a comeback on some shitty eighties reunion tour.’