Will stops kissing me only long enough to push the engagement ring onto my finger. I stare at it in astonishment and shake my head. For some reason I never thought this life was permanent. I thought of it as temporary, even I after I moved in with him. But now it’s like I’ve been gifted a future: a life shared here in Cumbria, in this village among the lakes. We’ll be happy. We’ll have children. We’ll grow old together. Even as I think it, I’m aware of a tiny spark igniting in my mind – the idea that nothing this good, nothing this perfect, can last. I try to smother it out, but it’s taken hold now and I can’t shake it off.

Will pulls me to the sofa and lays me down on it, curling beside me, cradling me in his arms and kissing me, and soon my worries melt away. I sit up, laughing and tug off my top; Will joins me, laughing too, and we strip in seconds, frantically tearing at each other’s clothes and falling into each other’s arms.

We’re so caught up in making love and in our happiness that, at first, we don’t hear Jet’s growls, but after a while they become so loud and insistent that we break off from kissing and turn our head to look. Our dog is standing with her paws up at the window, a low rumble emanating from her throat.

‘Jet,’ I say. ‘What are you growling at?’

The curtains aren’t drawn and all we can see is a black square of nothingness; we live deep in the countryside, surrounded by fields, and our nearest neighbour is half a mile away down a rutted lane.

Jet’s growl becomes even louder.

‘It’s probably a fox or something,’ Will says. ‘Jet, be quiet.’

He gets up and crosses to the window and I shiver, aware of my nakedness now he’s not there to warm me.

Will draws the curtains but now Jet is barking, relentlessly and aggressively, which is unusual. She’s a good guard dog, but otherwise mild-mannered, even though she sounds frightening, which is exactly what I was hoping for in a dog. I grab the blanket draped over the back of the sofa and wrap it around myself, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding.

Will pulls on his jeans, commando style, and then his sweater.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask him, unable to disguise the tremor in my voice.

He walks to the kitchen and Jet bounds after him, racing past him, still growling and barking. She bats her paws against the back door, impatient to be let out.

I stand up, my legs feeling shaky. ‘No,’ I say to Will. ‘Don’t let her out.’