Of course, the flowers could be for anyone. Surely others who had walked along this path over the years had slipped in the wet sand, perhaps tripped over an exposed root, felt themselves plummeting down, unable to stop, hands reaching up, reaching out, trying to grab onto something, anything…

Helen stepped back from the edge, stinging bile rising in her throat. She turned to go and noticed a figure in the distance, standing, watching. Helen couldn’t make out who it was. They were wearing a heavy padded coat over a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, their face in shadow. She couldn’t even make out if they were male or female as they were standing too far away. Helen assumed female from their height. She stepped towards them, held out her hand, but they turned and walked away.

It may have been yet another coincidence, perhaps just a walker looking for solitude, who saw a crazy woman with wild eyes gesturing to them and decided to go a different way, or changed their minds about using the coastal path after seeing how close to the edge it was. How sheer the drop was.

A certain plummet to your death.

But Helen also couldn’t deny that there were too many things happening to her now to be coincidental any longer.

*

She headed back to the house. Over the wall, she could see the shape of the pool house, lurking in the ivy, obscured from view. The ivy engulfed all of it like a living, breathing blanket, claiming more for itself with every passing year. Helen almost didn’t register the gap in the ivy draping over the back wall until she had walked past. She stopped short and retraced her steps. The ivy that had grown over the gate had been pulled back.

The gate was open. Just enough for someone to squeeze into the garden.

That gate hadn’t been open in years. As Helen stepped towards it, her shoe kicked at something hard lying in the dead leaves. She reached down and pull out the padlock that had kept it locked on the inside. It was broken.

She edged through the gate and past the pool house, her brain whirling. It must’ve been Peter. That was how he had got to the pool house so early. He must’ve noticed the gate when he was tidying the bushes along the back wall. Was that who was watching her on the coastal path? Was he trying to freak her out? Or was it her again?

Peter would make himself known. He wanted her to know he was threatening her.

Even so, she was annoyed. What did she say to Mills? That bullies only understood strength? Then she would have to show him strength.