“What about that chap?” Jenny asks.
“What chap?” I ask.
“Don’t you remember? The one in the shop. The good-looking one. He was checking out televisions, too, and it wasn’t all he was checking out. He started a conversation with you and told you he was a lawyer. He didn’t seem to notice that I existed,” she added, with a chuckle. “He was chatting you up. Didn’t he ask for your number? Don’t you remember we joked about him all the way home in the car?”
Racking my brain to visualise the incident, I have a vague recollection, but he didn’t make much of an impression on me. It was only a casual conversation, a bit flirty, maybe. I have them all the time. “You don’t think…”
“Maybe he’s a weirdo and he followed you,” Jenny suggests. “Perhaps he’s been stalking you ever since.”
“I suppose, bu
