‘The big group has just checked in,’ she told Finn. ‘Three more guests are arriving tomorrow from the same party.’ She placed her hands flat on the counter – hands she felt gave her age away. Despite her ritual of applying hand cream night and morning, these hands – her hands – told the world she was in her late fifties. That she’d had a difficult life. Maybe if she kept them tucked in her cardigan pockets she could pass for fifty. She took a deep breath. It didn’t matter how old she was, not really. She could never get back what she’d lost. ‘We’ll meet them all at dinner,’ she said.

Finn opened the door to the back of the house once more, and the aroma of the pork joint sizzling in the oven hit Ruth’s senses. There was only one vegetarian this time, and Ruth had prepared a small broccoli and tomato quiche for her that morning. ‘Talking of dinner,’ she went on, following Finn through the door, ‘let’s peel the veg together, shall we?’

Chapter 7

A Year Ago

Amelia

‘Caroline and I will grab Bluebell Cottage,’ Jackson said, waving the keys above his head like a tour guide, the sun glinting on his hair, making it shine like gold. He flashed Lark a smile, and added, ‘Lark, you can share with us.’

‘I’d rather not,’ she said. Her tone was calm and even, but there was something in the way her sister looked at him that Amelia couldn’t quite put her finger on.

‘Oh please stay with us, darling,’ Caroline said, gripping Lark’s hand. ‘We can have some mother and daughter quality time.’

Jackson placed a set of keys in Amelia’s hand. ‘The rest of you can take Honeysuckle Cottage.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Amelia muttered, and as she turned to head away, first checking her mum wasn’t watching, she saluted him. She knew it was childish, that she should, for her mum’s sake, stop acting the fool.

As they walked away, Maddie was suddenly in step beside Amelia. She linked her arm through her elbow. There was no doubting she was stunning, with glossy raven hair, a clear, olive complexion, and deep brown eyes. She had come over from America and was staying with family when she’d spotted the advertisement for a carer for Thomas a year ago. It was after some awkward interviews, including one with a man in his eighties with arthritis who Robert was certain needed a carer more than Thomas, and one with a woman who insisted she would have to bring her three Labradoodles with her because they couldn’t possibly cross their legs for the four hours she would be away, that twenty-two-year-old Maddie Jenkins turned up, brightening the room.