“Not particularly. Just this one really. It’s my go-to comfort book when I’m stressed.” He picked it up and turned it over in all its dog-eared glory. “It was my dad’s. He read it to me when I was a kid; I didn’t understand half of it, but I liked him reading it to me.”

“I didn’t have you down for a classics fan. I thought you’d be more of a James Herbert man.”

John looked impressed. “How very astute of you, Ms. Sharpe. As a matter of fact, I am a fan of James Herbert. But I like the classics too.”

“You should join our book club.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” said John, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ve seen what goes on at your book clubs.”

“That was a one-off—not at all indicative of our usual run of events.”

“I get the impression it’s really a women-only affair.”

“You’re probably right. There’s lots of feminist talk and bra burning. Once a month we sacrifice a man to Hecate under a blood moon.”

John nodded sagely. “I thought as much,” he said.

“Was your dad a big reader?”

“Yes. Or at least, I think I remember him reading a lot, but that could be my memory adding embellishments.”

“How old were you when he left?”

“I was about nine. You know those stories about men who go out one day saying they’re going to buy a packet of cigarettes and never return?”

“Yes.” Annie laughed.

“That was my dad.”

Annie straightened her face. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. He told us he was going to the off-license to get a packet of fags and a pint of milk and he never came back.”

“Oh my God! Did you ever find out where he went?”

“Oh yeah, he had a whole other family in the next town.”

“What!”

“Yep. I shit you not. Some of his other kids were even the same age as my siblings. He’d been leading a double life for nearly ten years, and then one day he obviously picked a favorite. And that was the end of that.”

“What did your mum do?”

“She waited for him to come home and she bore the shame.”

“She bore the shame?” Annie asked incredulously. “What about his shame?”

“I don’t think he had any.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“He turned up at my mum’s funeral. My brother punched him in the face; I didn’t intervene.” His face darkened, but then he checked himself and smiled. “My sister found herself on a double date once with her half sister. That was an interesting evening!”