As she combs through my wet hair, I take a deep breath, and let it out slowly, counting backwards in my head. But something’s taken over. Something I can’t control.

‘Listen, I’m not feeling too well,’ I say, pulling the towel from around my neck, and fumbling to untie the cape. I rise, the cape and towel falling to the floor, and race across the salon. I grab my jacket from the hook by the door. ‘I’m so sorry, Sandy. I’ve got to go.’

I rush out into the cool air, and hurry down the road, where I lean against a wall some distance away, unable to catch my breath.

‘Are you all right, dear?’ It’s an elderly woman, with a cute Yorkshire terrier tucked under her arm. It stares at me with brown velvet eyes, much like its owner’s. ‘You don’t look well.’

I gather my wits. ‘I’m fine, thank you. Honestly. It’s been a long day, that’s all, and it’s not even lunchtime.’ I try to laugh, and she chuckles.

‘Well as long as you’re all right, dear,’ she says, and goes on her way.

I look at my watch. I’m not meeting Dad for an hour. It’s not enough time to cycle home and come back, so I wander into Boots.

Feeling a little disorientated, my heart thumping far too fast, I meander up and down the aisles, breathing in the perfumes, scanning the shelves, buying nothing.

Managing to lose almost an hour in the store without getting accused of loitering, I finally step back out onto the pavement with a few minutes to kill before I meet Dad. I go to move away from the store when I see Julia – her long, patterned skirt flapping her ankles, her phone pinned to her ear.

I look about me, remembering Rosamund saying Finn was staying with her. But it seems she’s alone.

She takes quick steps down the other side of the road. Then, as though seeming to sense me here, glances my way. I duck back into the shop doorway. I don’t want to talk to her – fear what she might say.

‘It would have been murder if he’d died, Amelia. I saw the blood on you when you arrived at the farmhouse that night. It was his blood, wasn’t it?’

She slows her pace, and shuffles her brightly patterned bag further onto her shoulder, before picking up speed once more.

I exhale a sigh of relief as she disappears from view, and I head for Molly’s Café.

Through the window I spot Dad already settled at the back, a mug of tea in front of him.

‘Amelia,’ he says, as I enter to a waft of tempting smells. He pats the seat beside him. ‘Come and sit down, love.’