But now Martha regarded her sister’s change of stance with new understanding – Willow knew that she was pregnant and was cueing their mother up to help with future childcare. Just as Martha had been planning on doing. Maybe she had underestimated her sister. Maybe Willow was capable of planning something after all, and of being utterly devious.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Geraldine only stayed for one night, but as she herself frequently joked, a little of her went an awfully long way. Her departure yesterday afternoon had left Naomi feeling irritably unsettled. Even more out of sorts than before her friend’s visit.

It wasn’t that she was cross with Geraldine, it was herself with whom she was annoyed. For not being honest with her friend. If Geraldine had suspected she was lying when Naomi had said that of course Colin had never hit her – what a preposterous idea! – she’d had the grace not to push it. Instead she had turned her attention to interrogating her about Ellis. Which had been much safer ground, Naomi thought now, as she earthed up the potatoes that were pushing their way through the soil.

With her old gardening hat jammed onto her head, the noon sun in the crystalline sky was hot on her back and shoulders. It was almost the end of May and the day was one of those late spring days that shimmered with heat and the promise of summer. Occasionally a welcome breeze blew in off the sea, bringing with it a salty sharpness. Her arms were bare and really she should have changed out of this sleeveless top and put on one with long sleeves, but she’d been in too much of a hurry to get out here as soon as she’d eaten her breakfast, following another sleepless night.

Sleep had been bad enough before her friend’s visit, but last night she had tossed and turned for hours on end. She should never have allowed Geraldine to rake up the past to the extent that she had. Had she put her foot down, she wouldn’t now be feeling as though her life had been nothing but a sham. A sham of lies and pretence. And humiliation. She had lived with so many half-truths for so long – the myths of her own creation – she had come to believe them.

Not that she was the only one to have lived with the lies. Geraldine and Brian had evidently done so too. In all the years they’d been friends, Naomi had not once suspected what they truly thought of Colin. How many other friends had not held Colin in the high regard she had always thought they had? Had the condolences she’d received on his death been genuine, or merely yet more falsehoods prettily wrapped up in clichéd commiserations?

What she needed, she thought now, straightening up to stretch her spine, then resuming her digging, was to bury herself away. She felt such a fool. A stupid idiotic fool for believing her own lies. The lies she’d told through omission.