Helen immediately started to pack up her things, shrugging into her own coat, but not relishing the walk home. She could hear Jenni babbling from through the doorway. “You know, I was thinking about the new book coming in next week. You know, the one about the two women. What if we recreate the front cover as a display? Knock over a glass of red wine on the wooden table over there, like on the book cover?” She emerged from the back room, her eyes fizzing. “Tie it in with Halloween?” She tilted her head. Helen could see her brain working. “Hmmm, no, could get messy though, couldn’t it? And someone might slip, hurt themselves, sue us. Yeah, probably not.”

Jenni could sometimes get carried away with her ideas for displays. Helen usually let her rattle through them before reining her in. Today Helen cut off her ramblings.

“I’m not feeling great today, Jenni, so I’m going to go straight off home, if that’s ok.”

“Oh.” Jenni’s forehead creased with concern. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, just maybe coming down with something.”

“Ouch, how did you scratch yourself?”

Helen lifted a gentle finger to her face. “Er, gardening.”

Her eye was caught by an email notification that popped up on the shop computer. Helen opened the email, meaning to ask Jenni to respond if it was a customer enquiry. The subject line was blank, but the body of the email was typed in capitals:

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KNOW YOUR SECRET IS OUT? I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

She didn’t hear Jenni come up behind her. “Ooooh, what’s this?” Jenni said, reading over Helen’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Helen said, her voice tiny.

“Must be marketing for a new thriller. Who sent it?”

Helen looked at the details: [email protected].

“That’s good marketing, isn’t it? Even the email address is creepy. A bit like those horror movies – I Know What You Did Last Summer, wasn’t it? Sounds great – have to keep our eyes open for this one. God, these publishers can be so clever.”

Helen grabbed her bag, said a hurried goodbye and rushed out of the shop, sucking air into her lungs. She paused, then set off across the square, ignoring Harry from the florist when he waved at her.

She took the shorter route home with its wider pavements, even though it would take her along the coastal path. She rushed along, not looking to the left or right, until she reached the bottom of her garden. She turned and followed the wall around to the driveway leading up to the front of the house.

Once inside the house, she leaned her back against the front door, shutting the world out.

Maybe it was a coincidence. As Jenni said, a marketing ploy for a new book.

No, Helen knew better.