Diane put her hands on her hips, an eloquent gesture. ‘He’s been in touch, hasn’t he?’

‘If you must know, yes,’ she admitted. ‘He was doing something in the area last week and he came round to see the house.’

‘The house? Not you?’

‘He didn’t know if I’d be there. He was worried the tree in the back garden might have blown down.’ It sounded lame, now she said it. Of course he knew she’d be there. But she pushed on anyway. ‘We … talked. It was awkward, obviously. But he knew what I’d been doing with the floods, and he seemed interested in what’s been happening locally. The community effort, you know.’

He was perfectly pleasant, Tara found herself wanting to say. Charming, even. I didn’t want him to be, but he was. But she got the feeling that would only set Diane off. She’d seen her agitated before, usually during General Elections, but not like this.

Diane seemed to be struggling with herself internally, then stopped. She touched Tara’s arm, her voice sadder. ‘Tara, love. Why didn’t you tell me he’d been here?’

Because I know you hate him, Tara thought, but instead she said, ‘I wasn’t sure how I felt about it myself. I’m still not sure how I feel.’ She ran a hand through her hair, suddenly self-conscious. ‘He mentioned this idea of pro bono work to me earlier in the week, and I said he should approach the parish council but that in principle I didn’t think it was a bad idea.’

Diane’s cynical eyebrow made Tara uncomfortable.

‘Is that so bad? I mean, they need help.’

‘I suppose what I’m saying is …’ Diane massaged her head with her short gold nails. ‘This might be free to Troutbridge – and it’s a nice gesture, I’ll give him that – but there’ll be a cost somewhere. I’m just worried you’ll be the one paying it.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, Keith’s assuming a lot, isn’t he? He’s pushing his way into this, just like he pushed his way into Ruth’s—into your house without asking. You’ll be grateful to him – owing him something – which puts him in a position of power. Because at the end of the day, this is about power.’

‘And it’s completely impossible that my own dad might want to do something kind? To try to get to know me as an adult?’ Tara heard her own voice, and it was weak and plaintive.

Diane had unusual green eyes, clear and youthful, and she wasn’t afraid of holding someone’s gaze until her point had been made. Tara knew Diane usually saw straight into the heart of a problem – which was why this hurt so much now. Was she missing something? Something that Toby would once have told her?

‘Is it?’ she repeated, miserably.