I gulp at my wine, realizing my hands are shaking. Would Harry have sent this? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d used that word in relation to me. Could Mags have told Harry where I was? I remember her words when I told her I couldn’t go out with her that day, her saying she was meeting ‘old friends’, then seeing him in the pub. Was it really a coincidence? I hear her voice in my ear, He might have followed you from the flat to Rupert’s, did you think about that? Another thought strikes me, one that makes my blood run cold. She said she recognized Harry from the pictures in my phone, which means she must have been snooping as I have never willingly showed them to her. I knew Mags was clingy, and she’s always helped herself to my things and copied my style – I was flattered by it at first – but I didn’t think she would go so far as to snoop through my phone. I get to my feet, pacing the floor, the wine making my cheeks hot and flushed, before I snatch up the paper, running my eyes over the word again, as the paper trembles in my hands.

Hearing the scratch of Rupert’s key in the lock, I hurriedly tear the paper and the envelope into pieces and shove them deep into the bin without thinking. Out of sight, out of mind. A knot of fear and anger sits in a heavy ball in my chest as I force a smile on for Rupert.

‘Everything all right?’ He reaches for me, pushing my hair away from my face, and kissing me. ‘Mmm, wine. That kind of a day? How did the dress shopping go?’ He releases me and pours himself a glass.

‘Yeah, a bit. Oh, it didn’t really. I’m going to go to town with Sadie another day,’ I say, grateful that he’s turning his attention to the wine and away from me. I start fussing in the fridge, pulling out steak and butter and garlic, the word BITCH etched into my brain.

Later, after the rest of the wine and a steak that Rupert declares worthy of restaurant fare, we are snuggled together on the sofa, something mindless playing on the television. The events of today stick under my skin like a splinter, and I find my gaze is drawn repeatedly to the darkness outside the still open blind in the sitting room, almost expecting to see the blurred white oval of a face peering in.

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Rupert asks, his stubble rasping against my hair, and I give a little sigh of near contentment. Even though we haven’t been together very long, he knows that something isn’t right. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in tune with anyone to that extent.