‘I. . sort of. . don’t know.’

He had my attention. A changed name and a mysterious stalker will do that every time. I must have got the comforting look right because he stopped fidgeting, sat up straight and told me the story.

Bobby Forrest was an actor. He’d changed his name because Frost had connotations of cold and discomfort, and Forrest suggested something natural and, in these greening days, valuable. He said he’d dropped out of NIDA and hadn’t regretted it. A good part had come along and he’d grabbed it and been in regular work ever since, in television, films and commercials. He wasn’t surprised when I admitted I’d never heard of him.

‘No offence,’ he said, ‘but I’m geared towards a younger market.’

‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Very wise.’

‘I’m pretty well known. I’ve done a lot of TV and some movies. I’ve been on the cover of a few magazines and stuff like that. But I know I’m not that smart,’ he said.

I made the sort of gesture you make but he was serious. He said he’d been good at a variety of sports at school. He could sing and dance a bit and play a couple of musical instruments, but he’d never been interested in studying and his talent for acting was just a knack. He’d always liked to show off. He planned to start reading books and developing his mind.

‘I’ve got a girlfriend who’s helping me with that. Her name’s Jane. I’ve got a photo. .’ He started to reach for the inside pocket of his jacket but stopped. ‘I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t been much of a success with girls-shy, really. So I tried the online dating thing and that’s how I met Jane. But before I met her I got into a sort of online relationship with this other woman.’

He took two photos from his jacket and studied them. ‘I don’t know if you know how online dating works, Mr Hardy.’

‘Call me Cliff. I’ve got a rough idea. You exchange information and photos and if you tick enough boxes with each other you arrange to meet.’