“No worries. We should catch up properly sometime, less formally.”

Veronica smiled. “We should.” She wanted to say: I’m sorry about Amelia, I’m sorry about Harry, I’m sorry for all the stupid, petty, jealousy-driven things. But instead, she ushered children through the door.

In the end, it was Sarah who said something. “Well, let me know when you’re free, we’ll do dinner, just the two of us, no husbands,” she suggested. “Lots to say.”

“I’d love that,” smiled Veronica again.

And the smile that Sarah had returned as she walked away, was warm, and determined, and feisty, just like the girl Veronica remembered from her youth, though laced too with a new, surreal something, fitting of the day, which Veronica pocketed and saved to examine later.

It was George who suggested she invite round a friend. When Veronica arrived home that afternoon, Terry was hanging out of his front door.

“Sent the cops round did you?” he leered as she hastily locked her bike, trying all the time to appear composed and not fearful. Even from a few metres away, it was easy to see that he was intoxicated on something. “Had two of them here this morning,” he carried on. “Thanks very much. Nothing to see then though, was there?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” shrugged Veronica.

“Oh no? Not been putting ideas in my girlfriend’s silly little head then?” he sneered, taking a step forward from his door.

“Really, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated, acutely aware of the clipped tones of her voice, and glad of the passers-by as she made her way quickly inside.

Terry, however, wasn’t quite done. “You better fuck off!” he shouted after her. “Smug bitch.”

Inside, Veronica closed the front door firmly and checked the latch twice. Before anything else, she called their builder who promised to come the following morning. For the first time all day, a creeping anxiety was snaking back inside her. I’ll have you begging! I’ll have you begging! I’ll have you on your knees and broken. She couldn’t help hearing Terry’s refrain, over and again, and with him standing guard at his door, it was no wonder that there was a return also of that foreboding sensation of being watched. Was it him? Had it always been him? What did he want from her? It wasn’t her fault that his family had gone. She replayed his words in her mind, wondering what he’d meant by there being nothing for the police to see then. Had there been something since then, or before then? Was something coming? Although she knew that Simone and Jasmine were a safe distance away, she realised suddenly that she hadn’t actually seen Dominic.

Veronica called the police. As well as fear, Terry had stirred up a deep, dormant anger. Who was he to try to intimidate her? Who was he to abuse and threaten? Who was any man?

The police dutifully added her complaint to the now open file on Terry.