‘Lots of travellers live in caravans,’ Stella went on regardless.

‘Well, I lived in a house, but it was nothing like this.’ Iona had leant in towards Stella now. ‘Nothing at all as grand as the one you and your brother and sister have all been brought up in.’

David cocked his head. It sounded like there was a hint of jealousy, but then it wasn’t hard to see why.

‘No, we lived in places much worse than this,’ Iona was stating.

‘Did your mum miss you when you came here?’ Stella asked, and Iona laughed loudly while Bonnie jolted upright, sitting so tensely that only her hands moved as they scooped up a forkful of peas that all tumbled back on to the plate.

‘No, I don’t think Mum missed me one bit,’ Iona said, smiling, which he found an odd thing to do given what she’d said. ‘My mother is not a nice woman. She’s done things you would never believe.’

‘Oh?’ Stella’s eyes widened and David decided to cut in before Iona said something inappropriate for a family dinner.

‘So where do you come from originally?’ he asked.

There was a pause and he waited, slightly apprehensively now if he were being honest.

When she turned to him she flashed another smile and said, ‘Birmingham, David. I come from Birmingham.’

‘Oh, how lovely.’ He smiled back, trying to avoid looking at Maria. He knew what would be racing through his wife’s mind and he’d have to defuse it later when she came to him, panicked.

They had left Birmingham and Maria’s mother, Joy, behind them seventeen years ago and if he never saw that place again it would still be too soon. He felt a slither of unease but he shook it off. This was Iona, after all. He couldn’t possibly have anything to worry about.

PRESENT

Chapter Twenty-One

I have managed to squeeze in four sets of clients back-to-back, but it means that by the time I get in the car to drive to Dad’s, I could do with climbing into bed instead. On the way I mull over whether I need to talk to someone, as Tanya suggested after she’d taken one look at my pale and strained face.

I’d agreed that it would ease my burden, but when she told me she’d found the number of my one-time counsellor I brushed off the suggestion. I don’t have the energy or the inclination to open up an entire can of worms. If I talk to anyone it has to be someone who at least knows part of the recent story. And there is only one person who springs to mind.

Before I can give it too much consideration, I press the number for the only other person who knows as much as I do right now.