She’d never been able to tell the truth in answer to that last question. How could she have done? She was only just eighteen herself and was hazy about the liability of heartlessly trying to dump your boyfriend moments before he crashed his car. Did that make her responsible for his death? Would she be arrested if she confessed to the real story? The whole town would hate her and judge her for it. Lorna would probably have taken a swing at her. Her dad might have disowned her with the shame.

Instead they had all been so kind to her. So concerned and tender, as if she warranted any of their sympathy. In a horrific moment of irony, Lorna had even apologized on behalf of Aidan that Olivia had ended up in hospital with whiplash and concussion! How Olivia had managed to keep a poker face while she deflected the apology she would never know, but somehow or other, her secrets had remained intact. And here she was back in Falmouth, staying in Lorna and Roy’s beautiful cottage, when there was so much they didn’t know. What a hypocrite she was.

Maybe she should just tell them and allow them to get their hatred and anger out on her in return. Let them hurt her as much as she had hurt them. Maybe Lorna needed to know the kind of person Olivia really was. For Olivia to end up despised by the one woman who had looked after her would at least feel like a proper punishment.

‘What do I do?’ she murmured aloud. ‘What do I do, Aidan?’

She waited for some kind of sign – anything at all. A bird alighting on her hand perhaps, its black beady eyes full of compassion and understanding. A white butterfly flitting past her that might represent absolution. Even, you know, a massive judgemental thunderclap above, then a bolt of lightning that stabbed through her head, killing her immediately, with Aidan’s voice rumbling ‘JUSTICE’ amidst the thunder. At least that way she’d know where she stood.

‘Ready when you are,’ she said shakily, but nothing came. Nothing changed. No bird or butterfly, no crack of thunder above her head. Of course it didn’t. She was being fanciful.

Leaning back against the tree trunk, she took a long deep breath. The ground was solid beneath her, the air smelled of baked earth with just a hint of ozone on the breeze, and there were dog roses flowering nearby in a brambly cluster, she noticed. The birds were still singing. Such summery woodland beauty only made her feel worse than ever.

‘I’M SORRY!’ she yelled at the top of her voice. ‘I’M SORRY, OKAY?’

A bird flapped away, startled at the sudden noise and she put her head in her hands. Idiot.

Although there was still that one thing she could do, by way of penance to Lorna and Roy, mind, but . . .