In the end, I fudged an excuse about wanting to get changed into something more comfortable. ‘Literally more comfortable,’ I warned Daniel with as light-hearted a smile as I could summon. ‘It’s not a euphemism for “something sexier that is in actuality far more uncomfortable”. I’m thinking a pair of leggings and a jumper.’

‘Okay. Thanks for the clarification. But having lived with you for two months, I was expecting your fluffy pyjamas and that ugly green sweatshirt.’ He tugged on a strand of hair. ‘It was when I started to find even the sweatshirt sexy that I knew I was in trouble.’

How on earth was I supposed to resist falling head over heels for this man?

‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ He followed me out, pulling me closer to snatch another kiss before I scampered upstairs.

My shame expanded with every loving gesture Daniel gave me. The better things got, the worse I felt and I had no idea what to do about it.

I opened the drawer and waited anxiously for the phone to warm up, heart thudding for entirely different reasons than it had a couple of hours ago.

Two new messages. One sent on Monday, the day we left:

Time we talked in person.

Another this morning, at 4.30 a.m. It somehow felt worse that this had slithered into my phone when I was sleeping, even if it had been miles away from me, and switched off:

See you soon.

It was a threat. Meant to cause every hair to stand on end.

A threat, no more real or present than the hundreds of promises to mutilate and murder Nora Sharp. No one who knew I was Nora had the faintest idea where I was.

Unless they’d been staking out the Tufted Duck, and then followed me home.

No! No. I flung off that preposterous notion with the contempt it deserved. No one would be that crazily obsessed with finding me. Nora Sharp had made one comment about the quality of restaurant entertainment. She had not been responsible for what happened to Layla Alami. Even if one grief-stricken woman thought it was worth giving up months of her life staking out a tiny B & B in Windermere for, the rest of the family would have intervened.

I was pretty sure of it.

Being sure of something in your rational head and getting the message through to your quivering, jellified limbs is another matter. I hastily swapped my muddy jeans and light-weight top for a pair of soft leggings and an oversized jumper, and did my best to stick on a suitable expression for one of the best nights of my life.

I found Daniel poking another log onto the fire.

‘Hey!’ he smiled, nodding to where he’d laid out a pot of tea and a plate of cheese and crackers.

‘I know we had a massive dinner, but we skipped dessert. This was the closest I could find.’

‘It’s perfect.’

He grinned.

I waited until we’d settled down with plates and mugs before I spoke again.