I had had to persuade him quite hard, but in the end Jack had agreed to go with the rest of the Year Sevens on the school holiday to Cherbourg. I sensed that there was an element of negotiation in his consent – if he went, it was on the understanding that I gave him leeway in other areas of his life – but I had yet to discover what the terms of his negotiated settlement might be. Therefore the prospect of the holiday gave me a slight uneasiness. ‘Yes,’ I said. And then, ‘I’m going to take a few days off at the same time. I’m going up to Suffolk, actually.’

This plan took me completely by surprise. Jack would be safely elsewhere and I would have a whole week to myself, so I could easily slip away to Suffolk.

As soon as I had said it, the idea hammered in my head. Auntie Angela, one of the very few aunties with whom I had kept in touch in that we still exchanged Christmas cards, lived up on the east coast. She had sent me a note of sympathy and had written that she wasn’t well enough to come to the funeral. If I went up to see her, I knew she would talk to me about the old days.

In all the years that had gone by, I had wanted to know less rather than more about our history: Ted’s and mine, and Faye’s. I felt damaged by it and wanted to rub it out, smoothing away the ingrained lines of bitterness. Memory was like having a bruise that didn’t hurt, so long as you didn’t press on it. But I was increasingly aware that Ted’s death had changed all that. The scent of the past fumed around me as thick as mist, rushing from the olfactory nerve to flood the cells and chambers of my head. It teased my subconscious and made me give public voice to plans that I hadn’t conceived even in my dreams. The trail was drawing me to Suffolk and reviving my memories of Grasse, and it seemed I had no choice but to follow where it led. My skin prickled and the hairs rose on my arms at the thought, and the faint but acrid odour of apprehension must have risen from my pores because Cassie stirred and began to whimper.

I’d forgotten, momentarily, about Mr Rainbird.

‘To Suffolk? If I weren’t escorting kids to Cherbourg I’d come with you.’