David looked up and caught her watching him. A flicker of connection passed between them and Tara felt ashamed that she’d even been thinking of asking David to ask Sybil about Phil. Firstly, because – and she was aware of how mad this rationale was – why would Sybil care about Phil, the man who’d given her away? And secondly, because she suddenly didn’t want David to know that she still secretly thought about Phil. She didn’t like what it said about her.

What did it say about her? It was a very confusing thought.

‘You’ve got a dog living at the other end of your garden now?’ said David.

‘What? Um, yes.’ She’d told him that, hadn’t she? When she’d told him about Molly arriving. Tara couldn’t remember the conversation precisely, but she must have done.

David stroked Sybil’s ears and didn’t speak for a moment or two. ‘It’s a big yellow dog?’

‘A Labrador, called Lloyd.’ Was he pretending this was coming from Sybil? If I told him Molly had a dog, I’d have told him what breed it was, thought Tara. No reason not to.

He laughed. ‘She says they all look the same to her.’

‘Rude.’

David hadn’t finished. ‘Sybil says he’s fine as long as he’s in the garden but she doesn’t like it when he comes in her house.’ He paused. ‘She doesn’t like the way he follows you around. I think she’s jealous.’

Tara felt smug at the idea of Lloyd following her round; she was growing rather fond of him too. He reminded her more and more of Branston, the way he leaned against her leg as a sign of high esteem. ‘Tell her she’s being ridiculous – poor Lloyd’s only been in the house once or twice!’

‘Nothing poor Lloyd about it, apparently. Sybil thinks he’s taking liberties. She’s quite a character, isn’t she?’

‘As cats go.’ Tara watched David’s face as he communicated – or pretended to communicate, whatever he was doing – with the cat. She reminded herself that she should either be annoyed, if it was an act, or worried, if he seriously thought he could communicate with animals, but the truth was, she had no idea what he was doing. David’s whole face seemed to lighten, losing its usual grown-up composure, and Sybil did seem engaged with him. Tara’s curiosity grappled with her professional instincts. What had Sybil noticed from the garden wall? What did she think of Molly? Did she like her? Could she see the family resemblance?

Sybil abruptly swivelled her head in Tara’s direction, eyeing her in an accusatory fashion, and Tara had the unsettling sensation that there was a conversation going on that she wasn’t part of.