Finally, after a couple of false starts, we find the residential road where I parked. The officer pulls up behind my car. He asks again if there’s anyone who can come and drive me home. I suppose I could have called Joe, but he’s working, and I’d have had to wait over an hour for him to get here. All I want now is to be home. ‘I’ll be fine,’ I say, feeling anything but.

Back at the ambulance, the police officer managed to get through to Malmesbury Police Station, who were able to verify my story. So the paramedic reluctantly let me leave her care. I could tell she still wasn’t entirely convinced by my story. Before I left, she gave my hand a squeeze and passed me a leaflet with a load of helpline numbers on it.

I realise the officer is talking to me and I attempt to concentrate on what he’s saying. ‘We’ll pass the full details of today’s incident, and your statement, on to your local station,’ he says. ‘So if they need any more information from you about today, I’m sure they’ll contact you.’

‘That’s great. Thanks so much.’ At least I won’t have to repeat the whole thing to Sergeant Llewellyn. As I leave the air-conditioned interior of the police car and step out onto the pavement, a wave of dizziness hits me. But I fight my way through it. Last thing I need is for the police to stop me from driving home. Can they even do that? Not sure if they would, but I don’t want to chance it. I give a little wave at them through the window and try to walk as steadily as I can towards my red Polo. I’m amazed that I was able to show such a calm exterior when my insides are like jelly.

I open the car door and slip inside, put my bags on the passenger seat. Thankfully I parked under a tree, so the interior isn’t too hot. I don’t have the luxury of air con, so I’ll have to drive home with the windows open. But first, I’ll sit for a while, calm down before I have to navigate the one-way system and the motorway. The police car drives off and I exhale.

I pull down the sun visor to check my face in the mirror. There’s a plaster stuck down at an angle above my right eye, and the area around it is puffy, scraped and red, shiny with antiseptic cream. I can’t bear to look any more, so I shove the visor back up.

Rather than calming down, I’m becoming more anxious. All I can think about are the hands at my back, the way they felt when they shoved me. Two firm hands pushing me into danger. I can still feel them, like they’re branded onto my skin. I think I’m going into shock. I have to resist it. I wind down the window, turn the key and start the engine. I can do this. I just need to keep it together for another hour or so. Until I get home.

---

I jerk awake on the sofa as the front door slams.

‘Lizzy?’

Joe. He must be back from work. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. My mouth tastes disgusting. I sit up and stretch, wincing at the pain flashing through my bruised body. ‘In here,’ I croak.

His face appears round the door. His smile drops and he rushes over.

‘Bloody hell, Lizzy, what happened to you?’

‘It looks worse than it is.’ After my nightmarish drive home from Bristol, I had meant to come in, have a shower, get changed and have something to eat. But instead, I collapsed onto the sofa, closed my eyes and fell asleep. I realise I must now look like hell.

‘Your face!’ Joe’s eyes travel down my body, taking in the bruises and scratches. ‘Your dress! What happened? Have you been attacked?’ He rushes to my side.

‘I’m okay. I’ll be fine. I fell asleep. Bit groggy.’

‘But what happened to you? I thought you were going to see that private investigator guy. It wasn’t him who did this, was it?’ He jumps to his feet again.

‘No! Calm down, Joe.’ I take his hand – black with oil from the garage – and pull him back down next to me. I tell him about my trip to Bristol, about being pushed into the oncoming traffic. How the car stopped just centimetres away.

‘Pushed?’ he says, his eyes wide.

‘I’m pretty sure I was, yeah.’

‘No way. Who was it? Did you see them?’

‘It was so busy. There were all these students on the pavement. I heard these running footsteps, then felt these hands at my back.’ I give a shudder.

‘Could it have been an accident? Someone bumping into you or something?’

‘It could have been. But I’m pretty sure it was deliberate. I definitely felt two hands push me.’

‘Have you told the police?’

‘It was all a bit full on. Someone called an ambulance and the police, so I’ve been checked over. I’m fine.’

‘What did they say when you told them you’d been pushed?’

‘They said they’d go door to door round the local shops and cafés, see if anyone saw what happened. But it was so busy, I doubt anyone saw. Surely they would’ve come forward at the time.’

‘CCTV?’

‘None on that part of the road.’

‘Shit. I knew I should have gone to Bristol with you. I’m such an idiot. What a crap boyfriend…’

‘Don’t be silly. ’Course you’re not. It’s not like you knew someone was going to push me in front of a car.’

‘But what with all this other stuff going on, I should’ve realised you might be in danger. You could’ve been killed!’

I blow out a breath. ‘I’m fine.’ I may be fine physically, but inside everything is going haywire. My heart is racing, my mind spinning. ‘There’s something else…’

‘What is it?’

‘I think I might have seen Emma running away.’

‘What do you mean, Emma? As in, your sister Emma?’

‘Yeah. I’m wondering… I’m wondering if it was her. If Emma pushed me.’

‘No.’ Joe shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe she’d do anything like that.’

‘Well, it looked like her.’

‘You saw her face?’

‘Not exactly. Just the back of her, running away. But I know her. I’d recognise her anywhere. Like, if you glimpsed me in a crowd, you’d know it was me.’

‘Did you tell the police?’

‘About Emma? No.’

‘Jesus, Lizzy. Why didn’t you call me after it happened? I would’ve come to get you.’

‘To be honest, I wasn’t thinking straight. I was a bit all over the place.’

‘Did you tell them? The police, that you think it might have been your sister?’

‘No. I’m not a hundred per cent sure it was her, and if I accuse her of something like this, it’ll break Mum and Dad.’

‘You don’t think it’s her doing all the other stuff, do you? The letters and everything?’

‘I honestly don’t know. It’s not her writing on the letters, but I suppose whoever’s doing it would disguise their own writing anyway.’

‘But why would Emma do it? What would be her reason? I mean, you hardly see one another, you lead separate lives.’

I shrug. ‘Maybe she still likes you.’

‘What! No.’ Joe screws up his face. ‘That was years ago. Water under the bridge. Anyway, she’s marrying what’s-his-face, Mr Personality.’

‘I dunno. I can’t think any more.’ I drop my head back onto the sofa and close my eyes for a moment.’

‘You okay?’ he asks. ‘Should I call the doctor?’

My head is spinning. ‘Can you get me a glass of water, Joe? I feel a bit weird.’

‘’Course. ’Course I can. Hang on.’ Seconds later, he returns with my water. ‘Here you go. Do you want anything else?’

I gulp down the cool liquid. ‘That’s a bit better. Thanks. I’m bloody starving, actually. Haven’t had anything since breakfast. Probably why I feel so spaced out.’

‘Toast?’ he offers.

‘With jam?’ I add.

‘No problem.’

‘Let me just have a quick shower and get changed.’ I gingerly rise to my feet. ‘On second thoughts, I might just have to wash with a flannel. Too many cuts and scrapes to have a shower.’

‘Poor baby.’ Joe gives me a gentle hug and I wince as his stubble scrapes my cheek. ‘How did it go with the private investigator?’ he asks.

‘That’s another story. The guy can’t do anything.’

‘Why not?’ Joe frowns.

‘He told me the police are the best people to help. But he did give me some good advice.’ I step out into the hall and retrieve my recent purchase.

Joe follows me. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’

‘A spy camera.’ I perk up as I tell him about Nas’s suggestion. ‘He said to hide it in a plant pot out the front. That way we can catch whoever’s posting the letters.’

‘Brilliant.’

‘I hope it’s all right,’ I say, peering into the bag. ‘I dropped it when I was knocked over.’

‘You go and get washed and changed,’ Joe says, taking the bag from me. ‘I’ll make you some tea and toast. And then we can set this up.’

I nod, feeling a little better now that we might have a real chance of catching whoever’s doing this.

I only hope it’s not my sister.