Looking back over the time they had spent together, Geraldine couldn’t recall him ever actually saying those words to her. He had once told her that he was ‘in love’ with her, but perhaps that wasn’t quite the same thing. She had never even questioned how he felt about her, but had just assumed he felt the same as she did. Now she realised that she had behaved like a gullible fool. Ian had been on the rebound and desperate for comfort, and it was that need, not love, that had driven him into her welcoming arms. No doubt Geraldine’s passion had soothed his smarting ego, but the moment Bev walked back into his life, his relationship with Geraldine had faded into the background. She had to accept that she had lost him or, rather, that he had never really been hers to lose. Their love affair had existed only in her mind, and she had been a blind idiot not to see exactly what was going on.

Somehow she had to swallow her bitterness and move on, but by the time she reached Rod’s work place she was nearly in tears, despising herself and resenting Ian who had reduced her to a snivelling weakling. Her disappointment and rage threatened her ability to focus on the investigation, and she had to take a turn around the square to clear her mind before entering the shop.

‘Can I help you?’

Geraldine smiled at the slim girl standing behind the counter.

‘I’m looking for Rod Browning.’

‘Rod?’

‘Yes, I believe he works here?’

The girl nodded.

‘Is he here today?’

The girl gave another nod. ‘Yes, he’s out the back.’

‘Well, can you call him, or shall I speak to him there? Either is fine with me.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know,’ the girl replied.

Geraldine felt her smile slipping. ‘Shall I go and find him then?’ she asked.

Without waiting for a response, she strode along the central aisle, between shelves packed with bottles and sachets, and brightly coloured boxes and packets, to the back of the shop. There was an internal door marked ‘Staff only’, with a keypad beside it, and no bell. Impatiently, Geraldine rapped on the door but no one came to open it. She knocked more loudly, and finally the door opened and a short, stocky man looked out at her. He had a pale freckled face and a mop of ginger hair that hung down past his ears, reaching the top of a bushy ginger beard.

‘Yes? Who are you? What do you want?’

Geraldine introduced herself and explained that she was looking for Rod Browning.

‘Yes, that’s me. What’s this about?’

He looked curious rather than concerned. Geraldine gave him a tight smile.

‘Is there somewhere we can go where we can talk?’