“You’ll drive yourself mad,” he said as he tucked it into his back pocket, “checking and re-checking it to see if there’s been any new messages or texts. The police said they’d be in touch once they’ve traced where the messages originated from.”

“But—”

“If CID ring, or you get any weird messages, I’ll give it back to you. And if there’s anything really dodgy, we’ll ring PC Barnham. I promise. But I don’t want you to worry, Jane. I just want you to get well. We both do.”

At first I welcomed the warmth and safety of Will’s cosy home, and the weekend filled with continuous re-runs of Frozen and lessons in how to create loom bracelets, but, after a week, I found myself yearning for Green Fields Sanctuary. I missed my dogs. I missed the clean, feed and walk routine of my days. I missed the freedom of walking them through the fields and the feeling of fresh air on my face and in my lungs. I started to feel stifled, as though whoever was responsible for the texts and messages had succeeded in taking me away from the one thing that made me feel content and fulfilled.

Will was resigned when I told him I was going back to work – he’d seen it coming – but he insisted on dropping me off on my first morning back. Not that I’ve got any other choice – my bike was a write-off and the alternative is a four-mile walk from Will’s house.

“You’ll take it easy, won’t you?” After parking outside Green Fields, he leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “If you feel unwell, just give me a call and I’ll come and collect you.”

“I’ll be fine. And if I’m not, don’t worry: Sheila or one of the others will run me home. Look, there’s Angharad.” I gesture at the black VW Polo pulling into the yard. “I’d better go.”

I open the passenger door then look back at Will. “And thank you, for everything.”

“Least I could do. We both love you, you know.” He glances away, his cheeks colouring as he registers what he just said. It’s the first time either of us have used the word “love”. Neither of us says anything for several seconds. “Anyway” – he turns the key in the engine – “I’ll pick you up later, Jane. Have a good day.”

“You too.” I slam the door shut and he pulls away.