I rolled over into something warm and furry on Saturday morning. Twiglet. He'd taken to sneaking into bed with me, and I didn't have the heart to kick him out. Hang on. What was that cold thing lying across my stomach? A poker? Why did I have a poker in bed with me?

Exactly how much wine had I drunk last night?

Enough, it would seem, because it took a good thirty seconds before the previous evening's events became clear in my mind. When my thoughts finally crystallised, I leapt out of bed.

Someone had been in my house!

And I'd been stupid enough to sleep there. I smacked my own head. That was it—I was never drinking again. Ever.

Shaking with every step, I picked up the poker again and did a sober circuit of the cottage. Nothing. Nothing but those horrible words on my wall, which told me it wasn't just kids messing around, no matter what everybody said. When I got back to the bedroom, all my false bravado subsided, and my legs gave way. Twiglet mewed on the bed next to me, and I scritched his head.

"I'll get you breakfast in a minute, little one."

Breathe, Olivia. Nobody else was in the house, and I'd even blocked up the broken window. At least drunk me hadn't been completely incompetent, merely incredibly stupid.

Sometimes I didn't understand myself. Why hadn't I just called Tate again? Or better still, 999?

I rectified the situation as best as I could by calling the police to file a report. Graham made vague promises about doing paperwork but gave me no confidence whatsoever.

"We didn't find any fingerprints last time, so I doubt we'll find anything this time. Hardly seems worth sending a forensics team out."

Good to know my taxes were hard at work, wasn't it? "But somebody's been in my house. What if it happens again?"

"You might want to try and stop upsetting the locals. Keep your head down for a bit," he suggested, making me want to throttle him.

I'd hardly gone out of my way to annoy people deliberately, had I?

I sent Tate a text to let him know I'd had another break-in, but when he called back and offered to cancel his weekend golf trip to stay with me, I insisted he go. Having him change his plans would be yet another black mark in my copybook.

In any case, I wouldn't be at home for most of the weekend. I'd be at Valerie's party with Maddie, and Maddie had offered her sofa bed for Saturday night. I agonised over whether to stay in Upper Foxford instead, but if I did, I'd give the person out to ruin my life even more control. They could try to destroy my home, but I'd be dammed if I'd let them take my soul as well. I'd just have to hope Lilac Cottage was still in one piece when I got back.

On Saturday, the party was in full swing by the time Maddie and I arrived with Mickey in tow. They'd bonded on our initial trip to Lilac Cottage, and when Maddie mentioned on Facebook that I'd be in town, Mickey had invited himself around for a drink, and we figured he might as well come to the party.

"Valerie won't mind," Maddie said. "The more people who turn up, the more popular she looks. She even invited the checkout assistant from Tesco to one of her parties when he asked what all the wine was for."

As I wasn't going home tonight, I suspended my teetotal pledge for the weekend. I needed to have fun, and one glass of wine wouldn't hurt. Or punch, even.

"It's white wine mixed with Prosecco," slurred Valerie, who'd clearly been sampling the product. For most of the afternoon, judging by the lack of focus in her eyes. "And I put some fruit in too so we get our vitamins." She gave me a grin, then hiccupped.

I glanced down, checking she still had all her fingers. How she'd managed to keep them while chopping up the strawberries, oranges, and kiwi fruit was a minor miracle. I ladled myself out a small cupful and took a sip. Not bad.

"Is that all you're having?" Maddie asked.

"I'm trying to cut back."

"Why? Life's too short."

"I've done a couple of really stupid things while I was tipsy, and I want to avoid it happening again."

She bumped me with her shoulder. "Oh come on, the strip club was fun. You must have seen the funny side of that by now."

I stared daggers at her.

"Okaaaay, maybe not. So, what else have you done? You'd have to have gone some to top that." Her eyes widened as her brain went into overdrive. "Did you do something with one of your hot men? Oh, tell me you did."

"Men? You make me sound like a hussy. I've only been out for dinner with Tate."

She rolled her eyes. "Tate? What's wrong with Warren? Tate sounds like Edward all over again."

"You reckon?"

"Rich bloke in a suit, happy to splash the cash when it suits him."

"Tate's not like that."

Maddie topped up my cup with another ladleful of punch. It was good stuff. And the more I drank, the healthier it was, right?

"You can't just give me that and stop," she said.

"There's not much to tell." But I couldn't help blushing.

"So, have you done it?"

She didn't hold back, did she? Mind you, she never had. "No, Miss Nosey, we have not done it."

"Why not? You need to have a rebound fling to get Edward out of your system once and for all."

"I'm not like you, Maddie." Although sometimes I wished I were. Especially with Tate. I'd spent more than a few daydreams imagining him wrapped around me.

"Maddie! Olivia!"

I squinted at the girl teetering towards us on towering heels. "Rachel?" Another old school friend.

"Yes!" She thrust a garishly coloured cocktail into my hand. "Try this. We've been experimenting."

"What's in it?" I sniffed, but apart from a hint of coconut, I was none the wiser.

Her eyes flicked up as she tried to remember. "Uh... I don't know. But there's definitely alcohol."

She collapsed in giggles as I tried a sip. There wasn't anything but alcohol, judging by the way my throat burned.

"Just knock it back," Maddie suggested.

Oh, what the hell? I'd stop drinking tomorrow.

Sometime later, I'd lost my shoes and also my inhibitions. Plus, I may have dirty danced with two guys I didn't know then led a conga line around Valerie's flat. Mickey had been right behind me, and now I spotted him on the improvised dance floor with a blonde girl I didn't recognise. They only had eyes for each other. Aw, sweet.

I twisted an ankle staggering towards the punch bowl then gave in to gravity, collapsing onto a sofa between Maddie and Rachel before I'd managed to top my drink up.

"Did you see me?" I asked them. "I did the lift out of Dirty Dancing."

Maddie choked on a laugh. "No, you tried to do the lift, and then three men caught you when the other one lost his balance."

I giggled uncontrollably. "I know, and it was awesome!"

"Are you only back for tonight?" Rachel asked. "I've missed you at events like this."

"Yes, just the night. But I'll try to visit more often."

"At least you're not with Edward now. He was the most boring man in the history of the world. You can let your hair down again."

"Boring? Did you really think so?"

"Everyone did, honey. All he ever talked about was golf and stock options. Nobody liked him."

Oh my goodness. They'd all hated him, and I'd had no idea. Of course, I'd known Edward had disliked my old friends because he told me at every possible opportunity, but I didn't realise the feeling was mutual.

"She's got a new man now," Maddie piped up. "Edward mark two."

"He's not more Edward. I swear. Tate's, uh... His hair's different."

"Bring him next time, and we can all check him out. Is he another wa...banker?"

I was still reeling from the fact that everyone disliked Edward. "No, he's a lawyer."

"We'll forgive him for that if he treats you right," Rachel said. "How is life in the country, anyway?"

Apart from Tate, it was awful, wasn't it? I'd drunk too much to try and sugarcoat it.

"It's all right apart from the two break-ins, the brick through my window, and everyone in the village hating me. Oh, and someone slashed my bike tyres."

Their mouths dropped open.

"What?" Maddie gasped. "You didn't tell me any of that."

"I didn't want to worry you. You were having problems with that nasty woman at work."

"I can deal with work. Liv, you're being terrorised!"

At Maddie's urging, I explained the problems I'd been having. "But nobody's tried to physically hurt me. They seem to want me to leave, but what they don't understand is that I've got nowhere else to go."

"What are the police doing?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. The local policeman doesn't seem too keen on actual police work. I think he probably wishes I'd leave as well; then he could go back to sleeping on shift."

"You should put in a complaint."

"Rock the boat even further? I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"What about Tate? I take it he's not being a prick towards you?"

"He and Warren are the only people still being nice to me."

"Do they know about this campaign against you?"

"Some of it. Tate helped me clear up after the first burglary, and Warren stopped by to check I was okay. Oh, and Tate had the tyres on my bike replaced. I didn't tell him about the latest break-in, though. I'd been drinking when I got home, and it seemed like the best idea to check the house myself, then go to bed." Maddie's mouth dropped open, her eyes wide. "I know, I know, it was stupid. You don't need to tell me."

She grabbed the remainder of my drink out of my hand and slammed the glass down on the coffee table. "You were right earlier. You're not drinking again, ever. Not if it causes you to risk your life like that."

"I think you're exaggerating just a little bit."

"You don't know that. Now, we need to get your problem sorted. I'll research the police complaints procedure in the morning, and if Tate and Warren are on your side, you need to tell them everything that's been happening. They can help keep you safe."

"What about a private detective?" Rachel asked. "I mean, if the police aren't doing their job..."

"I can't afford a private detective. I can barely even afford food." Especially because work kept getting interrupted by clean-up duty. Every time I had to deal with the aftermath of a break-in, it wasted time that I should have been spending on eBay.

Another old friend stopped behind us. Sophie and I used to sit next to each other in biology class and keep each other awake by writing stories. She'd write six words, I'd write another six, and so on until we'd filled the page. Hours of fun, apart from the time the teacher caught us writing a tale about him arriving from outer space on the back of a giant snail and gave us both a detention.

"Did someone mention a private detective?" she asked.

"Liv needs one, but she hasn't got the cash," Rachel told her. "Someone's trying to kill her."

Sophie's eyes turned into dinner plates. "Oh my gosh!"

"Rachel's exaggerating. I've had a couple of break-ins, and one or two other things have happened."

"That still sounds awful."

Maddie took over and told her all the details, sounding as melodramatic as possible. By the end of the story, Sophie looked ready to drive to Upper Foxford and beat people up with her stilettos. She clenched her fists at her sides and stamped one dainty foot on the carpet.

"That's horrific! You poor thing."

"I'm sure it'll stop soon. It's probably just because I'm a newcomer."

Sophie thought for a few seconds, then clicked her fingers. "I've got it—my brother's friend owes me a favour, and I think he's some sort of investigator. At least, the rest of the guys call him Sherlock. You know, like Sherlock Holmes? I'll get my brother to phone him."

"Soph, I can't afford to pay him."

She waved my protest away. "I told you, he owes me a favour. He forgot his girlfriend's birthday, so I dropped everything and spent the day searching for a last-minute gift to get him out of the hole he'd dug himself into."

"But you love shopping," I pointed out. All through school, Sophie had spent more of her time at the mall than at home. She'd been on first-name terms with most of the shop assistants, and I was sure I even spotted several of them at her wedding last year.

"Yes, but he doesn't know that. I gift-wrapped the present and everything. Bows, fancy bag, the works."

Before I could stop her, she had her mobile pressed against her ear, repeating my sob story to her brother. Somehow, she managed to make it sound even more tragic than Maddie had.

When she hung up with a look of triumph, I didn't know whether to be pleased or nervous.

"He's going to call Sherlock. Can I text him your number?"

I nodded weakly. Trying to talk Sophie down was like trying to stop a suicidal chocoholic from diving into a lake of hot cocoa. I'd learned that at the age of thirteen when she insisted on hiding out in the library instead of going to gym class and we got caught by the headmaster.

"Good. I'll arrange everything." She handed me my glass of wine. "And have this back—I think you'll need it."