Restless, tossing and turning in bed. I hear a slamming in the distance. My body jumps. This is it. Hayley coming to kidnap you. I jump out of bed and pull on my dressing gown, and ram my feet into my slippers. I grab my torch from my bedside table. For the first time in my life I wish I had a gun. What has happened to me? When I was a teenager I was a pacifist. I think the noise is coming from the back. So I unlock the door, and step into our garden. The security lights snap on and dazzle me. I blink and the tennis court and the swimming pool come into focus. My heart is thumping. I cannot hear or see anyone.

I walk along the passageway to the garden. Darkness and silence press against me. I snap my torch on and walk around the garden pointing its beam beneath trees, behind bushes. Then I switch it off and stand still for ten minutes, straining my ears in case I hear something. Nothing. No one is here.

I slowly, slowly, tiptoe down the side passage. I need to check the front garden now. Slowly, slowly, I open the side gate. I hold my breath as it whines a little. I meant to ask the gardener to oil it last week. Into our paved front drive. I can’t see anyone. I can’t hear anyone. The ornamental gates are closed. The cars are just where I left them. Your Mercedes. My Range Rover. The nanny’s Volvo run-around that no one is using at the moment. The Subaru BMZ. I get on my hands and knees and shine the torch under every car. No one is here.

I check where Hayley is on my iPhone tracker. Blue Bell Drive. Esher. Behind the Blackhills Estate, a mile or so from here. I imagine her curvy body snuggled up to her skinny green-haired boyfriend, and breathe a sigh of relief.

All clear.

189

Saffron

The alarm drills into the bedroom and wakes me up for my trip to Marazion House in Cornwall: 5.30 a.m. Too early for light to filter around the curtain edges. Waking so early has made me feel as if my body has been assaulted and I am in recovery. But I fight against the attack and force myself out of bed. I need to be sharp to check all Crispin Montague’s tenancy agreements. A shower invigorates me. Now I feel awake and almost normal. I pull on the clothes I laid out last night, because at this time of day planning what to wear takes too much effort. Miles is still fast asleep. I lean down and brush a whisper of a kiss across his forehead, so as not to wake him.