Tilly shook her head. Being an orphan might explain Matt’s oddness, she supposed, and his shyness and reticence. She could see how what had perhaps been a defence brought about by loss could have grown into habit, like the way he had of never meeting a person’s gaze full on. She had, she reflected, learnt more about him over the meal than in the previous eighteen months. Who would have thought he was married? Hard on the heels of that came the memory of him asking if she got lonely. She examined the thought: the only reason she could conjure up for him doing so was that perhaps he did.

A sudden suspicion wormed its way into her mind, and her hands stilled in the sink. But no, they were workmates, nothing else! Surely he couldn’t be interested in her? She hoped uneasily that it wasn’t so. It would make life here very awkward if she had to rebuff him. She needed this job and, besides, had nowhere else to go. She grabbed at the cutlery in the suds and felt the blade of a knife slice into her finger.

‘Damn it all!’ She snatched her hand back. It wasn’t a deep cut. She watched the bright scarlet drops stain the soapsuds and sighed, overcome by a sudden gloom. The revelation, if such it was and not just vanity on her part, was nearly as unwelcome and troubling as the recent incursion of the police into her life.

An hour later, as if the stray thought had brought them, the police returned. Tilly had just overseen another camper’s registration when the next vehicle pulled up behind her. She turned, smile in place, but the friendly greeting dried on her lips as she saw the driver’s face.

‘What are you doing back here? You can leave at once, Sergeant. I won’t listen to another word of your absurd accusations.’ With relief she saw Connor’s vehicle approaching down the track and turned back to the house, hearing the police vehicle’s door open behind her. He couldn’t stop her, she told herself – he wouldn’t dare lay hands on her.

David Burns didn’t, speaking urgently across the vehicle body instead. ‘Mrs Hillyer, I just want you to listen a moment. Please, it’s important. Look, I’m sorry about the other day. I got hold of the wrong end of the stick, thinking you must be involved. If you would just give me five minutes of your time – that’s all it will take.’

Connor arrived then. He must have read something of the situation through her body language, she thought, for he’d left his door open in his haste to come immediately to her side. ‘Everything okay, Tilly?’ And to the strangers, ‘Who are you?’