“He had to talk to someone, Laura. And in spite of what you think, I’m not all and sundry. Ian’s my friend, and as far as I’m concerned, what you did to him is a shit’s trick. And on top of it all, to turn up with Becky in tow, when you of all people know how allergic he is to dogs. What a slap in the face! You couldn’t have made it clearer that you’ve no intention of trying to sort things out with him.”

Laura ground the heel of a brown boot into the shingle. When she spoke, her voice was harsh. Not for the first time, Lindsay wondered at the capacity betrayers have for anger against the betrayed. “There wasn’t any going back from the moment he threw me out. He left me in no doubt about that. He wasn’t interested in my explanations, so why the hell should I kid myself?”

Lindsay looked up at the beautiful face, clenched tight in an expression of bitterness. Then, suddenly, it was gone, and the Laura Craig cool mask was back in place.

“Well, I hope he’s worth it,” Lindsay said harshly.

She turned away, giving the dog a final pat and strode up the beach as fast as the shingle would allow. She didn’t grant Laura a single backward glance.

By the time she returned to the Winter Gardens, Lindsay’s run-in with Union Jack was already history. At least half a dozen things had happened which had grabbed the attention of delegates desperate to be riveted by anything other than conference business. But although the rest of the world seemed oblivious to Lindsay’s highly charged encounter with the father of her chapel, it was still vivid in her mind. It didn’t need Ian’s solicitous enquiries as she sat down to remind her of the wound that Union Jack had so callously opened.

“Are you okay? Bloody Union Jack. I can’t believe he could be so bloody insensitive,” he said, but not quietly enough to avoid arousing the interest of other members of the delegation. “Even though he didn’t know about Frances, he still had no right to drag her in like that.”

Lindsay rubbed a hand over her face. Any good the fresh air had done her vanished like mist in sunshine. “He was just trying to discredit me, that’s all. Making sure that anyone who didn’t know I’m a dyke knows now. That and telling everyone that I’m somebody else’s puppet. Why should I expect him to have known about Frances?”

By now, the entire table had given up any pretence of listening to the debate. Lindsay and Ian were the center of everyone’s attention, even Paul leaning forward to hear better.