It's a relief I've got to admit. But in the days to come it will be important for her to remember that I was the one who suggested contacting the cops and she was the one who refused.<br/><br/>Despite, or perhaps because of, the shock, she sleeps soundly. I wake to find her hand around my morning wood. She gives me a weak smile and doesn't pursue it.<br/><br/>Dressed in freshly laundered underwear, she sets of for work with me at her side. She presses against me, as if drawing comfort from the contact.<br/><br/>'Dave' she says as we approach her work, 'I want you to go back to our place and check it out. Make sure no one's got in again. Keep an eye on it from a distance, just in case you spot someone hanging around. Don't leave until you come to collect me this evening.'<br/><br/>'Our' place. I noticed that. 'Our place.'<br/><br/>I drop her at work and pick up a coffee on the way back. I open the door and check the flat. Then I pick up the phone.<br/><br/>'Mia, don't be upset, but someone's been here again. I must have disturbed him, because only your underwear drawer was open.'<br/><br/>Her response is instant.<br/><br/>'Burn them, everything. I'll pick up some new ones on the way home.'<br/><br/>I can hear her hyperventilating down the phone.<br/><br/>'And do something about the locks and latches. Make that place secure before I get back.'<br/><br/>No need to burn expensive underwear. I take it with me and deposit it at a charity job before buying some window locks that can't be picked from outside.