I felt a surge of nervous energy as Hadi Kattan walked towards me. He crossed the small lawn that housed the fountain, flattening the tiny white crocuses scattered throughout the grass. For the first time I saw something in his face that scared me.

‘What are you doing here, Mrs Miller?’ he asked. He looked older than he had the other night, less noble, his face hawk-like in the early light.

I should have made good my escape while I could. I heard the cock crow a final time.

‘Oh, Mr Kattan. I – I heard the bad news and—’

‘I don’t think you have been totally honest with me,’ he interrupted quietly. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me, perhaps?’

My stomach lurched. ‘Like what?’ I smiled shakily. ‘I don’t have any secrets, Mr Kattan. Not proper ones.’

He stared at me until I wanted to hide my face like my children did when they thought I couldn’t see them.

‘But your husband told me, my dear.’

Betrayed by my own husband? My mind scrabbled like a rat in a trap.

‘You are a writer, aren’t you?’ he persisted.

In the background, the ambulance started up.

‘A writer?’ I stalled. ‘I write a few shopping lists, I know that much.’

‘Oh, come on, Rose,’ Kattan’s voice was like a blade coated in honey. ‘You write for that local rag, the Chronicle.’

Relief swept through my body until my knees actually felt like cotton wool.

‘Oh, yes,’ I said, and I actually laughed. ‘I do. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. That’s not a secret.’

‘But you do have one, don’t you, my dear Rose? A secret you have kept hidden as best you can.’

‘What?’ My legs still felt wobbly.

‘I don’t want you up here again, you understand?’ Kattan took my arm and walked me towards my car. ‘You have disappointed me.’

‘Really?’ I was confused, and his grip was firm. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter.’

‘But why?’ I protested.

‘Listen to me, Mrs Rose Miller,’ his face was grim, ‘I know all about your sordid past. And let me tell you, not everyone thinks that blasphemy is a joke.’

‘Blasphemy?’ My skin was prickling. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You are an intelligent woman, I’m sure you can work it out. Some even call it a sin, you know. Whatever god you follow. Don’t come here again, and please, don’t cross me.’ His hooded eyes were absolutely unreadable. He looked suddenly reptilian to me. ‘It really would not be wise.’

Chapter Eight
GLOUCESTERSHIRE, MARCH 2008