‘I assume those who are named on the official documents do obviously work for the company – are major shareholders or something – but they aren’t the ones making the actual plans and decisions about the Stockwood development. From what I’ve managed to dig up, the developers have a link with locals. Or, specific local people, I should say.’

‘How could a local person be involved in this after all the fuss the villagers made about the proposed development?’ The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. ‘Who? Who are the ones in on this?’

‘I haven’t reached that conclusion – there’s far too much to sift through. They’re obviously not making it easy for people to find out.’

My optimism wanes. I was hoping for something firm – not another tenuous link. ‘So, we’re not really any further on with this …’

‘Hang on, don’t despair,’ Jo says. ‘I’ve other relevant stuff, give me chance.’

‘Sorry – it’s been a long few weeks. I’m a bit short on patience.’ I take a sip of coffee; attempt to calm down.

‘I asked around and some people recollected stories about the same developers paying people off so they could gain land and houses. Utilising more “threatening” behaviour to get what they want. It made me think there’s a strong possibility they could be behind the strange goings-on in your house; they’re trying to frighten you into selling to them quickly.’

‘That’s terrible. How can they get away with doing that?’

‘It’s all small talk, hearsay, whatever you want to call it. No one has ever come forward with proof. Probably too afraid to.’

‘This is so stressful.’ I rub my hands over my face.

‘But this is where the other interesting fact I found out comes into play.’ Jo is giving a smug smile. Like the cat who got the cream.

‘Go on,’ I say.

‘Carl,’ Jo states, then sits back.

‘What about him? Surely he’s not in on it with the developers, is he?’

‘Well, I’ve got nothing new about any of his supposed affairs, but, I did find out that his wife is the stepdaughter of a Mr Whitmore …’

‘No! That can’t be a coincidence. Okay, that changes things.’ I sit forward, banging my elbows onto the granite breakfast bar. ‘What a creep – is that why he’s not even trying to sell my house? So he can force me to sell to his wife’s stepdad?’