There was nothing new on tonight’s news bulletin about the body found at Huntley Lodge. It wasn’t even mentioned and the social media networks have nothing new either. Just lots of condolences under the comments and one or two people asking if it could be the woman who went missing a few years back. Each time I read such a comment my blood pressure shoots through the roof. I have to stop looking.

I look at the clock again. I’m not sure I’ll sleep properly if I don’t ring now because if someone is cancelling their service I don’t have much time to find a replacement. Taking my phone from the coffee table I slip my feet out from under Lucas and go to the bedroom. I flick through to find the number of the missed call. I’m stressing out again, hoping it’s nothing to do with the wedding. When I hit the redial button I list every possible thing I think it could be while waiting for an answer. After a few rings the phone goes to message.

Dr Faye Connolly is not available at the moment. Please leave a message and your call will be returned as soon as possible.

My heart stops. That was not on my list. Why is Faye Connolly making contact now after all this time? My hand starts to shake as I lift the phone to my mouth because I know the answer.

‘Faye… it’s Tara. Sorry I missed your call. Please ring back.’ I end the message, gripping the phone tightly in my hand. Faye Connolly is ringing about the body found at Huntley Lodge. She’s worried too that the cops will dredge up the past and I don’t blame her. If our alibi doesn’t hold strong, Faye has a lot to lose.

Chapter Nine

Then

‘Smile.’

Faye is holding her phone up to take a selfie of us both standing beside the main stage. I pull my hands out from the pockets of the jeans which are tucked into my pink wellies and force a smile. The light rain jacket that I’m wearing over my checked shirt and a white T-shirt is probably not necessary because the sun is shining in the clear blue sky above my head. But I barely notice because my heart is breaking. I’m giving all that I can to perform in this charade but behind my fake smile my thoughts are crushing me.

I’m also wearing a fake tattoo. A flower on the right hand side of my face, stretching above my eyes. Faye has one of a blackbird with a yellow beak. Faye insisted we stick the tattoos on saying, ‘We have to make it look like we’re enjoying ourselves.’

I know she’s right. Faye is always right.