Marco’s Café was full of its usual incongruous mix of clientele: teenagers, young mums and truck drivers. Aidan, Olivia and the rest of the gang had been frequent customers back as sixth formers, thinking themselves sophisticated for drinking milky coffees there after college lectures, and often congregating for a proper fry-up and builders’ tea on weekend mornings. The decor might have changed over the years – a revamp here, a paint job there – but it had retained its cosy, rather scruffy-round-the-edges feel. More importantly, Lorna could still imagine the eighteen-year-old Aidan here at a table, laughing as he and his mates shared a joke, and that was all that mattered.

Hello, my love, she thought, as she always did when walking in, as if she might catch one last spectral glimpse of him there.

It was the only time of year that she and Roy ever came to the café, but there always seemed to be just one table free, as if somehow Aidan had reserved a place for them. This time it was the nicest table of all, the one in the window, and she sent a grateful smile up to the ceiling as they settled themselves into the wooden chairs and considered the laminated menus.

‘Gosh,’ said Olivia, gazing around. ‘I had forgotten about this place. I haven’t been in for years.’

Now that they were under the bright café lights, there was a peaky look about her, Lorna noticed with a small frown of concern. Terrible bags under her eyes too, the poor thing. Was she well? ‘So how are things with you?’ she asked, resisting the urge to reach over and take Olivia’s hand in hers. There was something about having Aidan’s former girlfriend here with them, in person, that made Lorna want to keep touching her. As if she couldn’t quite believe she was real. ‘Your dad’s okay, is he? I’m guessing you’re staying with him and Gail while you’re down here, are you?’

‘Um,’ said Olivia, fiddling with the salt cellar. There was no wedding ring on her finger, Lorna noticed. Had she never been able to find anyone to match Aidan? Her heart ached for the poor girl, who had clearly been so affected by his death. ‘Actually, no, he and Gail moved to Torquay a couple of years ago. I . . .’ She shrugged sheepishly. ‘It was a bit of a whim, me coming down here. I slept in the car last night, because I didn’t know where else—’

‘Oh!’ said Lorna in surprise. ‘In your car?’ she repeated dumbly, as if she might have misheard. Was Olivia in financial troubles? Homeless? No wonder she looked so pale.