Irritated with herself, Tilly clicked her tongue as she returned to her task of filling the smoko tins. It was pointless – shades of Sophie! – pretending to herself. She cared for the man, she might as well admit it. Her heart beat faster in his company and she was pretty sure the feeling was returned. When she was with him she’d felt a steady regard emanating from him – she couldn’t be wrong about that. And he had helped her in lots of ways when he could just have walked by: with the pump, for instance, and restraining that odious police sergeant. They’d had a nice day out at the coast that first time, and surely he didn’t go around giving his carvings to every woman he met? No, there was definitely a connection.

Besides, she reminded herself, she had no reason to feel guilt. It wasn’t as if she was still mourning her husband. Far from it! Gerry’s coldblooded deception had killed her love, making a mockery of the long months of grieving she had done for him. He had abandoned her in her grief, a grief he should have shared for their lost daughter, and that was a betrayal she could never forgive.

Sophie, coming into the kitchen at that moment, found her young cousin standing staring raptly through the window. ‘You taking up meditation, Till?’

‘Huh? Oh, no I was just . . . woolgathering. Actually,’ she contradicted herself, ‘I was thinking about Connor. He just returned. I feel – well, I like him, Soph. Quite a bit, and I’m trying to convince myself it’s okay to do so. In my circumstances, I mean. How do you stop loving someone? Can you? Because I have. I feel nothing for Gerry now, just a sort of tired sadness over how it’s all turned out.’ She pondered a moment. ‘It’s not hatred, that’s too strong a word, but I despise him, and love can’t live with that. I know you can love someone even if you don’t always like them – that’s human nature – but when they’ve acted despicably . . . Well, it’s hard to come back from that.’