‘But it was Instagram where I found the real you,’ he says, looking into my eyes and smiling. ‘Gosh, there was just so much. I was spoiled for choice. There were all those photos of your holidays – mostly with that friend of yours, the tall woman with the lovely red hair. All those places you visited. I was so envious. I was stuck here, too scared to leave the house, and there you were, little Iris travelling the world. I loved that photo of you in Prague, all buttoned up in your black winter coat, your eyes shining against the twinkly lights of the Charles Bridge. Now, all authentic characters have to eat, don’t they? And those photos of your meals were just amazing, so well lit they looked like they’d been taken by a professional. You loved that Italian restaurant on the King’s Road, didn’t you? Rossi’s. Though I notice you don’t go there any more. I liked it too, particularly that evening when I got to watch my little Iris enjoying her Chianti, though you weren’t keen on that vongole, were you? I didn’t think much of that bloke of yours. He likes telling you what to do, doesn’t he? It hurt me to see you with someone else, Iris. Particularly someone as horrible as him. It should have been us sitting at that table. I would have made sure you had the food you really wanted. I would give you anything.’

I think back to that evening, sitting outside with Connor, the night everything changed. I’d got so drunk I have little memory of it, but this man had been there, he had been watching.

‘And the boxing match,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I could tell my lovely little Iris wouldn’t want to see such violence but that man wouldn’t listen, would he? It got so bad you had to run out. That’s when I knew I needed to step in and ask you if you were okay. Poor little lamb, you were so pale and your hands were shaking when I touched you.’

I go cold as I recall the man in the red baseball cap, the scar across his face. I had thought he was a beaten-up boxing fan but it was this man and he had followed me there. I feel sick with fear and disgust.