When the back door had closed behind him, Yvonne rounded on Aaron, pink and damp-eyed. ‘This won’t be good for Lee. Can you stop her?’

Aaron sighed. ‘No. She has as much say in it as I do.’ He deliberated over how much to reveal. ‘She’s not here to make trouble, Mum. From what she told me, she’s had a hard time of it and hasn’t got many places to go. Lee seemed to take it OK. Let’s not make a big deal out of it, in case he gets anxious.’

Yvonne gazed at him, eyes dark with worry. ‘We certainly don’t want that.’

Chapter Four

On Monday morning Clancy awoke in an unfamiliar bed in the only-slightly familiar room and the memory of why she was there crashed in on her.

Will.

Renée.

Will with Renée. The images of them together flashed before her eyes.

Stop it! she told herself sternly. She was in a new bed in her new room. She had a new life in a tiny jewel of a village high up above the sea. A wedge of sunlight sliced through the dormer window onto the floor, as if tempting her to get up and warm her feet on the wooden boards. Once that was accomplished, getting on with the day became easier.

First job when she got downstairs: sit down and write a shopping list.

Bedclothes

Towels

Curtains (downstairs and loft)

A rap at the front door made her drop her pen and jump up to answer, expecting it to be Aaron, though it was fifteen minutes earlier than they’d arranged. But when she threw the door open it was to find a woman standing there, her curls dancing in the breeze. ‘Hello, Clancy. I thought it best if we cleared the air.’

Clancy stepped back, feeling her cheeks heating up. ‘Oh! Mrs De Silva. Yvonne. Come in.’ The De Silvas must truly still be harbouring ill-feeling towards Alice and her family if air-clearing had to be done.

Yvonne looked strained and pinched. She stepped inside, her gaze roaming around the big echoing space of the ground floor in which the few pieces of furniture now in Clancy’s care were almost lost. She wasted no time getting down to business. ‘Are you absolutely sure about living here?’ Her hair was untidy. Not the tousled look her son carried off so well, but more the bedhead style of someone who hadn’t been able to wait to come and air her concerns.

Clancy had been about to offer her a cup of tea, but Yvonne’s words made her suspect it wasn’t going to be a long visit. ‘Nearly sure,’ she answered, honestly.

‘I see.’ Yvonne gazed at Clancy, her dark eyes tired. ‘I won’t beat about the bush. I’m worried. When Alice left so cruelly Lee was so hurt … I was terrified at the way he crashed, emotionally. I thought he’d end up in either the psychiatric ward or the morgue. It destroys you to see your child that way and know someone else is responsible.’