‘That’s a big bag, babe.’

I kept on moving before he could stop me.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Sorry, hon,’ I said, turning on the path to smile gamely. ‘I’m late for a class. See you in a bit.’

‘OK.’ He looked puzzled.

‘See you in a few hours.’ I threw it over my shoulder, hurrying towards the gate. I’d made it past him, at least.

‘Wait up!’

My heart stopped.

It actually felt like it had stopped right there in my chest.

I slowed, looked back.

Who was that woman who looked back when she shouldn’t have?

‘It’s Wednesday,’ he said slowly.

‘Yes?’ I kept trying to smile.

‘Wednesday’s date night, Melissa.’

And how much I loathed that expression. But it was true: date night had been a thing we did. Before the summer: before we didn’t even do that anymore.

‘I thought you were working late, so I accepted a private class.’ I tried valiantly for breezy. ‘No rest for the wicked.’

He frowned. ‘With who?’

‘Nella,’ I said quickly.

You know, I’d always been a good liar, professional almost: I’d had to be, growing up as I did.

But this – it mattered too much. The minute it was out, I regretted it.

I was too desperate – and he smelt it. Like the giant at the top of the beanstalk.

Fee fie fo fum…

‘I’ll come with you.’ He was behind me now. ‘I’d like to see Marcus. See what the takings were for Saturday, drink one of his mate’s beers.’

‘He’s away,’ I said quickly.

‘Really?’ His thick hand clenched my upper arm. ‘Marcus is away?’

‘Yeah. Shame, but only Nella’s home. Next time—’

‘Funny, that, because I just saw Marcus getting out of a cab when I drove past.’ How yellow his teeth looked in this light. ‘Right before I saw that boy leaving here.’

‘What boy?’

He grabbed my bag from me, dragging my thumb back painfully so I clamped my teeth against the pain. He unzipped the top and pulled something out.

‘There was no boy,’ I half whispered. ‘I don’t know who you mean.’

Why was I so bloody stupid?

‘Oh really, babes? And, funny, this?’ He looked very far from joking as he held something up: a small burgundy object. ‘Need a passport to get to Nella’s these days?’

I cursed myself.

He pulled me back up the path. My foot went in his poxy flowerbed, trampled at least four of his prized carnation plants.

This time, I struggled. Hard. But the street was empty and dark, and I was up near the house, behind the big flowery shrub he tended with love.

There was no one around to hear a shout, or a scream, and just as I considered kicking him in the shin, he pushed me so hard I went knee-first, face-first onto the path, hair in the dirt.

God, it hurt, as my knees made contact with the crazy paving.

Fee fie fo fum…

I was too stunned with pain to scream; I was incapacitated. He was going to drag me back into the house by my hair, then slam the door against the world.