The scent filled the room, flowery and thick. It made her think of the mortuary, and specifically of the waiting room, which had featured several tasteful flower arrangements, as though that could distract you from what you were about to see. She shook her head. It was important not to fixate on it, that’s what her housemate Terry had said. Don’t think about the smell, don’t think about the wind whipping along isolated cliffs, and definitely don’t think about the particular effect that a very long drop will have on the organic material of a body …

‘Shit. I need some air.’

Heather shoved the crumpled paper into a drawer where she couldn’t see it and headed back downstairs. She was on her way to the back door when the doorbell rang out through the house.

Instantly, the sick, tight feeling in her chest was replaced by anger. It would be someone selling something, or collecting for a charity, or chattering about God. Or it would be Mr Bloody Ramsey. She swept to the door, already savouring the look on this interloper’s face when she said can’t you see I’m grieving how dare you, and was startled to find a tall, well-dressed older woman on her doorstep. She didn’t have a clipboard or a donation box, but she did have a covered casserole dish in her hands and an expression of sympathy.

‘Er, can I help you?’

‘Heather? But of course it is.’ The woman smiled, and Heather found her anger fizzling into nothing. She had very short grey hair, cut into a style that would be quite unflattering on most people, but she had strikingly good cheekbones and a long, handsome face. Heather could not guess her age; she was clearly old, older than her mother, but her skin was largely unlined and her bright grey eyes were clear and sharp. Mary Poppins, thought Heather wonderingly. She reminds me of Mary Poppins. ‘I’m Lillian, from up the road, dear. I just wanted to pop in and make sure you were coping.’ She lifted the dish up, in case Heather hadn’t spotted it. ‘Can I put this down somewhere?’

Heather jumped back from the door. ‘Sorry, of course. Come in.’

The woman moved smoothly down the corridor, heading straight for the kitchen, her confidence suggesting she was familiar with the place.