‘Thanks for trying, Uncle Jack,’ I said.

He nodded as, deep inside my bag, my phone began to vibrate. I ignored it and started up to the stable at the top of Half Acre Field, leading my horse by my side and holding my son in my arms. The phone stopped and then immediately started again, one of those callers who simply refuses to be ignored. Maple looked at me askance, the way that a horse will, that furtive sidelong glance they give you, exhaling with nerves and nothing showing in her huge eyes except equal measures of love and panic. I stroked her face, more for my own reassurance than hers, for I had never quite lost the feeling, my last souvenir from childhood, that nothing could ever really harm me if I was with Maple.

As we reached her stable at the top of the field, I answered my phone.

‘I just came from your home,’ James Caine said.

14

Tara

The long spring day was growing dark when I sat in my car with Ginger, parked outside her home, feeling so exhausted that I could have happily slept for a lifetime. Through the big bay front windows, I could see Spike moving around the living room of their ground-floor flat, chomping on what remained of the takeaway pizza that had been their dinner. My stomach rumbled and I was suddenly aware that I had had no time to eat anything today. I had dropped Marlon home with Christian and now it would be time for the brushing of teeth, and putting on pyjamas and a story before bedtime, all the sweet rituals of late in the evening with your five-year-old. I felt the ache for my home and my family and it gnawed at me like hunger.

‘You have to end it now,’ Ginger said. ‘Are you listening to me? Jesus Christ – the bastard has been to your house, Tara. He’s been inside your home. If this guy doesn’t stop, if you allow this to go on, then you’re going to lose everything. Your family. Your home. Your life. And your fucking mind, Tara. And why? Because some creepy guy you don’t even know will not leave you alone. So stop it!’ She slapped my arm. ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘I don’t know what to do, Ginger.’

‘Go to that hotel he shacks up in. He’s there now, right?’

‘I can’t.’

The thought terrified me.

‘You can.’

I exhaled, my breath ragged. ‘And do what exactly?’

‘Tell him to back off! Tell him it’s done!’ She squeezed my arm until I could feel her fingers pressing into bone.

I pulled away from her, suddenly desperate.

‘No, Ginger. Please. I don’t want to. I just want to go home and sleep.’

‘You have to tell him he has to stop contacting you. Final warning. Tell the bastard to leave you alone. I’m coming with you, OK? You’re not going to be alone. I’ll be right by your side.’