‘When I went to get the flapjack,’ she says, frightened by where he’s going with this, ‘I left my unfinished coffee, yes. For a minute, no longer than that.’

Silence. Rob is annoyed, she can feel it. Eyes closed, he’s trying to control his frustration. She thinks of the café again, scared by the thought of someone spiking her coffee here in idyllic Cornwall.

‘You’ve got to be more careful,’ he says, gently now. ‘I’m coming back down. Tonight.’

‘It’s fine, really,’ she says, trying to disguise another wave of panic. She’s not ready to see him in person. She just wants to be with Bex, on her own, give herself the chance to process everything that’s been going on. She’ll tell Bex about the cramp attack, see what she thinks, whether Rob’s being paranoid.

‘I could drive,’ he offers.

‘Honestly, I’m OK.’

She tries to tell herself that Rob is worried about her because he’s a naturally cautious person, safety conscious. It’s one of the things she dislikes about wealth. It seems to make people more fearful, oblige them to live behind high walls and locked doors.

But she knows his worries run deeper. Rob thinks she’s in danger from the people she recognised when she worked for the police. She hasn’t told him all the details of her old job. She’s not allowed to. But he is aware that her memory for faces was instrumental in convicting some deeply unpleasant people.

‘You really think someone spiked my coffee?’ she asks, determined to downplay the possibility.

‘Maybe.’

‘Why would anyone do that?’ She laughs nervously, but before he has a chance to answer, she hears a car pulling up outside.

‘Bex is here,’ she says, grateful for the interruption.

‘Keep the doors locked,’ he says.

‘I always do,’ she lies.

‘And remember to set the alarm.’

‘I promise,’ she says, but this time she means it.

18

Jake

Jake closes his laptop and looks down the narrowboat to the bedroom at the far end. There’s not much in there these days. He had a big clear-out after Kate left. A purging of sorts. The lighting is low and for a moment he thinks he sees her engrossed in a book, lying on the bed. She liked it down there, away from the noise of the engine. In the early days, she used to be his first reader, annotating embarrassing sex scenes with perceptive comments about emotional intelligence.