Dom comes back home just before lunch, but things are strained between us. I’m barely speaking to him. Not that he’s made much of an effort to speak to me either. We’re kind of deadlocked, neither of us backing down over who was in the wrong this morning. Mel calls round but I hide upstairs, pretending to be asleep, in no mood to talk to anyone. I’m relieved when Dom says he’s going back to work this afternoon. Maybe by the time he gets home this evening, we’ll have calmed down and be on speaking terms again. Maybe.

The fact that Daisy wasn’t snatched by Martin or anyone else hasn’t stopped me feeling nervous. And it’s made me more determined than ever to keep her safe. I will never allow something like that to happen again. Sure, it was only Dominic who took her out of the bedroom this morning, but that’s not the point. The point is, I slept right through it. Anyone could have come in and lifted her out of her cot and I did nothing but lie there, out of it, oblivious.

It hasn’t allayed my suspicions about Martin. Far from it. His car is still missing from the driveway, so either he’s away or he’s at home and his car is in the garage. I know what I need to do, but I feel dizzy at the thought of it, so I won’t let myself think about that right now. Instead, I potter about the house trying to distract myself from the heavy feeling in my gut. From the thought that all the neighbours must think I’m crazy. From the fact that Dom and I are growing further apart. And all the while, someone out there wants my baby.

---

I awake to the sound of a dull thud. My eyes spring open, my pulse ticking. Was that a sound from my dreams, or from reality? A shaft of moonlight throws the unfamiliar ceiling into relief. Where am I? It takes me a few moments to work out that it’s the middle of the night and I’m on the futon in Daisy’s room. I sit up and tilt my head, listening hard for any sound other than my frantic heartbeats. Another thud and what sounds like the scraping of wood. Definitely coming from outside. With the blood whooshing in my ears, I get to my feet to check on my daughter. I lean over the cot and exhale when I see her lying there, safe. Next, I edge over to the window, twitching the curtains aside a fraction.

The garden appears to be deserted. My eyes stray to my neighbours’ gardens but I can’t see every angle from here. I give a small gasp as I notice it – a dark figure just beyond our garden. Too far away to make out if they’re male or female, if they’re old or young. Just a hulking shape standing in the field behind the house. I release the breath I was holding. Was that person in here? Did they break in? Are they about to break in?

My breathing is shallow, my vest top sticking to my back as I check the bedroom window locks and test the handles once, twice, three times before I’m satisfied that they’re secure. I check Daisy once more and then head downstairs. The toys are all where I left them late last night, strewn along the doors and windowsills – my warning system. The other doors and windows are still secure. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been inside. But what if they came in, noticed the toys and stepped over them? What if that person out there is the same man I heard on the monitor the other day? Or could it be Martin? But why would he be standing in the field in the middle of the night? Unless… what if it was someone visiting Martin’s basement? An accomplice.

Should I go back upstairs and wake Dom? I only consider this for a brief moment before dismissing the idea. When he got home from work earlier, it was awkward. Neither of us mentioned the incident with Daisy. He stuck around for a measly half-hour before disappearing off for a bike ride. By the time he got home again, it was dark and I was in bed in Daisy’s room, fuming. So, no, I’m not going to wake Dom up now, no matter how terrified I feel.

In the stillness of the kitchen, my heart is beating out of my chest, but I have to go outside. I have to see if anyone is out there. With a wildly shaking hand, I unlock the back door and step out beneath the violet sky into the moonlit garden, closing the door behind me. The air is damp, almost cool, and I stay with my back to the glass for a moment, gathering my courage. I take a breath, tiptoe across the patio, and step down onto the grass, scratchy beneath my bare feet. I cross the garden quickly, my heart still thumping. I check the back gate. It’s locked, but whoever is out there could easily have scaled the fence. I should have checked the grass for footprints, but I’m no expert and if there were any prints, I’ve probably already obscured them with my own.

I peer over the fence and suddenly wonder if it could have been Callum coming back for his football. That seems likely. Or maybe Lorna is right, maybe Callum does have a crush on Hannah Slater and it was him hoping to get a glimpse. She is a stunner, but he shouldn’t be hanging around – especially not at night – he could get into trouble. I hold my breath and gaze across the dark fields, but there’s no one in sight. Whoever it was has gone. Unless they’re hiding… watching.

I shiver and turn around, convinced whoever I saw is staring at me right now. What the hell am I doing out here on my own at night? I must be mad. I march back across the garden trying not to panic, focusing on the back of our house – brick and tile, unremarkable, built in the 1950s, like all the other houses in our road. My home. But it looks alien in the pre-dawn morning, looming forward as though it’s tilting, about to fall forward and squash me. I start to run, my body hot, my breaths shallow. Any minute now, someone is going to grab me from behind, tackle me to the ground. It’s all I can do to stop myself from squealing aloud.

Finally, I slide open the back door, my hands slippery with sweat, and stagger back into the kitchen, stumbling over Daisy’s toys and pulling the door closed behind me. I lock it, check it and check it again, my breath ragged, a thin film of cold sweat on my forehead.

I’m tempted to race upstairs to tell Dom about the person I saw out there. A glance at the luminous blue figures on the cooker clock tells me it’s 3.25 a.m. Dom wouldn’t thank me for waking him at this time of night. And all I saw was a figure in the field. It’s a public place – nothing illegal about someone being out there. What about the thump I heard? Dom would tell me it was nothing but a cat or a fox. Maybe it was a cat or a fox. But I have a strong suspicion that those noises were made by that figure out there scaling one of the garden fences. Our garden fence.

Wired, I stand by the back door, chewing the skin around my thumbnail, wondering exactly what it is that’s going on around here. I’m also wondering if there’s nothing going on, and whether I might actually be going a little bit crazy.

---

My eyes fly open at the sound of a crash. Sunlight makes me squint and blink.

‘What the hell, Kirstie!’ A yell from downstairs. Then footsteps on the stairs.

I groan and close my eyes again, remembering the toys strewn around the floor down there. I meant to get up early and put them all back in the basket, but I’ve overslept again. I stagger upright and peer into Daisy’s cot. She’s still in her sleeping bag but is attempting to grab at her toes. Her eyes light up when she sees me and my heart lifts.

‘What’s with all the mess downstairs, Kirst?’ Dom says, throwing open the door and marching into Daisy’s room. ‘This is the second morning I’ve found Daisy’s toys all over the floor. I almost broke my neck on that bloody xylophone. What’s going on?’

I turn to face him, but I can’t bring myself to tell him why I put the toys there. In this sunny suburban bedroom, my fears will sound unreasonable. He’ll think I’ve lost the plot even more than yesterday.

‘Kirstie?’

‘I’m sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well so I decided to have a sort out.’

‘A sort out? But they’re everywhere. Nothing looks sorted out to me.’

‘I know, I got distracted. There was someone out there last night.’ I grip the top of Daisy’s cot with my left hand.

Dom frowns. ‘Out where.’

‘In the field at the back.’

‘Whereabouts? Are you sure you weren’t… dreaming or something?’

‘No. They were staring up at our house,’ I exaggerate a little, so he won’t think I’m losing my mind. ‘Dom, I think whoever it was might have been in our garden. Or they might have been coming from Martin’s place.’

‘What time was this?’

‘Early hours. Three-ish.’

‘God, Kirst. You were sorting out Daisy’s toys at three in the morning?’ He runs a hand over the top of his head and blows air out through pursed lips.

‘I told you, I couldn’t sleep.’

He sighs and his shoulders sag. ‘You should come back into our bed tonight,’ he says softly. ‘I miss you. No wonder you can’t sleep on that futon thing. It’s hard as a rock.’

I realise this is Dom’s way of calling a truce, but I don’t respond to his request. ‘Who do you think it could have been out there?’ I ask instead.

‘Probably just kids. Did they come into the garden?’

‘I don’t know. I just saw them in the field.’ I chew my lip.

‘Don’t worry about it then. There are always kids hanging out in the fields, especially this time of year.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Anyway, look, I better get going.’

‘Sorry about the toys,’ I say, hanging my head. ‘I hope you didn’t hurt yourself.’

‘I’ll live.’ He pulls me into a hug. ‘Are we okay now, Kirst?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, suddenly feeling a renewed warmth towards my husband. ‘Course we are. Yesterday was just a stupid misunderstanding.’

‘Good. I hate it when we fight.’ Dominic releases his hold on me and I feel instantly colder, more alone. He’s leaving for work, and once again I have this sinking, twisting feeling in my belly about Daisy and I being left on our own. I need to get a grip. I lift Daisy out of her cot. I need to change her nappy, but we’ll do it in a minute. For now, we follow Dom down the stairs and kiss him goodbye. I stand in the doorway and watch as he walks away.

‘Okay, Daisy Doo, I better get you changed.’ I turn and close the door, about to head back up the stairs, when there’s a loud knocking at the front door behind me, like someone’s using their fists. Dom is shouting for me to open the door. I turn back and pull it open. His face is red, confused, angry.

‘Dom? What is it?’

‘Some bastard keyed my car!’ he cries.

‘What?’

‘Yeah, there’s a huge great gash running all the way down the driver’s side. I can’t believe it!’

‘Who did that?’

‘I have no idea. But I’ll bloody kill them if I find out.’

‘Could it be the same person who did the flowers and the paint?’ I ask.

But Dom is already striding away down the path. Still in my pyjamas, with Daisy balanced on my hip, I follow him towards his gleaming, dark-blue Audi. Daisy’s eyes widen as she looks around, enjoying being outside.

‘It must have been kids,’ I add. ‘Or…’

‘What?’ he says. ‘Or what?’ He stops and turns to me.

‘That person I saw in the fields last night, it could have been them. It probably was them.’

‘Of course! I forgot about that. What did they look like? Did you see their face?’

I bite back a retort. Now he’s interested in who it was. Now that his precious car has been damaged. But that’s not fair of me. I’d be pissed off too if it was my little Golf. ‘I told you I didn’t get a good look at them. It was dark. I couldn’t see them properly.’ I think about mentioning the fact that Callum has been hanging around the Parkfields’ house, but I honestly don’t think it was anything to do with him. What possible reason would he have to scratch Dom’s car? He was never a troublemaker at school. I can’t imagine it would have been him. And if I tell Dom, he’ll mention it to the police and Callum might get in serious trouble. I don’t want to be the cause of that.

We continue on down the path until we reach Dom’s Audi and I walk around to the driver’s side. At once, I’m both fascinated and repelled by the previously immaculate paintwork now scarred by a thin, uneven metallic line from front to back. For a strange moment, my cheek throbs in sympathy, like someone has scored the skin across my face. I put my free hand to my cheek, gently touching it with my fingertips. But, of course, it’s smooth, unhurt.

‘I wonder if my car’s okay.’ I glance over at my silver Golf.

‘It’s fine,’ Dom says. ‘I already checked.’

‘You better call the police,’ I say.

He sighs and rolls his neck from side to side. ‘You’re right. I’ll call them when I get to work. Otherwise I’ll be late.’

‘Do you think it’s just your car?’ I ask. ‘Maybe the neighbours’ cars got—’

‘Good point,’ he interrupts, and strides off in the direction of the Parkfields’ driveway. He scans Stephen’s BMW and Lorna’s Honda CRV. Next, he heads over to the Cliffords’ drive. While he’s checking Rosa Clifford’s cream VW Beetle, she steps out of her house, a flimsy white dressing gown wrapped around her willowy figure. Even from here I can tell she doesn’t have much else on underneath. Her dark hair is tousled and she shades her eyes against the morning sun as Dom points my way. But then I realise he’s pointing to his car, explaining. Rosa’s hand flies to her mouth. They check her Beetle together, walking all the way around it. Next, they check her husband Jimmy’s black VW California.

Dom says something and Rosa laughs, lightly pushing his shoulder. They seem very pally. I think back to what Dominic told me, about visiting their house to have a beer with Jimmy. I wonder if Rosa was there at the time. And if she was, why didn’t they ask if I wanted to join them? Is Dom ashamed of the post-baby me? Does he have a better time when I’m not around?

My husband eventually heads over to Mel’s place to check on her Mercedes. Rosa gives me a short wave before disappearing back into her house. I wave back, thinking uncharitable thoughts.

Finally, Dom heads back to me, jogging across the road, handsome in his suit, his tanned face creased in a frown. He slows down once he reaches the pavement, and shakes his head. ‘Their cars are all fine. It’s just mine. Typical.’

‘What about Martin’s car? Is it back in his drive?’ I suppose I could have checked it myself, but I can’t bring myself to go over there.

‘Oh, yeah. Hang on.’ Dom disappears from view for a few moments.

Martin’s house is screened by laurel hedges and leylandii. Despite the rising heat, I give a shiver. For a Tuesday morning, our close is very quiet. The builders haven’t arrived yet.

Dom returns, a scowl plastered across his face. ‘Of course they don’t touch Martin’s twelve-year-old Corsa, no, they have to vandalise my brand-new Audi. Wankers.’

‘Martin’s car’s back then?’

‘What? Yeah, it’s in his drive.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I say, putting a hand on his arm, and trying not to think about the fact that Martin has now returned from wherever he was yesterday. ‘Work will get it fixed for you. It’s covered by insurance, isn’t it?’

‘I bloody hope so. It’s not just that, though. It’s the hassle. Explaining what happened, calling the police, filling in forms. I could do without it, Kirst.’

‘I know.’ It’s not actually Dom’s car, it’s a company car. But he loves that thing like it’s our second child.

He gives me and Daisy a distracted kiss each before sliding into the disfigured vehicle and closing the door. He buzzes down the window. ‘I might be late tonight.’

‘Late?’ I cry, trying not to overreact. ‘How come? You’re working really long hours at the moment.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘They shouldn’t expect you to stay late every night. They know you’ve got a new baby.’

‘Look, I don’t want to worry you,’ he says, which has the effect of instantly making me feel worried, ‘but there have been a few rumours at work. Some people are saying that the company might be taken over.’

‘Taken over?’ I don’t like the sound of that. ‘What does that mean?’

‘They’re saying an American company is interested in buying us out. Hopefully they’re just rumours. But, even if it’s true, I’m pretty sure my job will be safe.’

‘Pretty sure?’ My mind starts to rush ahead. Without Dom’s income we’re screwed. We’d have to sell up, downsize. We’d probably have to leave Wimborne. It’s not exactly a cheap place to live. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you. But that’s the reason I’ve been staying later than usual.’

‘What will we do if you’re made redundant?’ I ask, even though I know now is not the time to talk about it.

‘Don’t worry,’ he says reaching out a hand through the window and taking mine. ‘As long as I work my butt off and make myself indispensable, there’s no way they’ll lay me off. But I have to put the hours in, okay? I don’t want to give them any excuse to get rid of me.’

‘Okay,’ I reply. I don’t suppose he has any choice.

‘I’ll call you later. Let you know what time I’ll be back.’

‘Good luck with the police,’ I say.

‘Thanks. Love you. See you later.’ He lets go of my hand and closes the window.

I watch him drive away, plumes of dust swirling in his wake, my whole body churning with anxiety.