‘How are you going to get there?’ said Ivor, hastily wiping his lips with his napkin.

‘Walk – it’ll only take me ten minutes or so – besides, it’ll give me a chance to gather my thoughts.’ Stepping back into the room, she picked up the diary and pushed it into her handbag. ‘Shan’t be long.’

‘Hold on, woman, I’ll come with you.’ Ivor pushed back his chair and was about to get to his feet when his wife’s hand landed on his shoulder.

‘No, you won’t. Ivor this is something I need to do on my own.’

‘He’s not going to like being questioned, and we all know he’s a temper on him,’ Ivor said, his features etched with concern.

Matilda’s eyes flashed. ‘As have I, the difference being, I’m fighting for something, so if you want to worry about anyone, worry about him.’

‘Well, if you’re not back in an hour I’m coming round,’ he said firmly.

‘Why?’

He grinned. ‘To help you dispose of the body.’

William Campbell was sitting in his study going over his company’s finances when someone rang the front doorbell. ‘Annie!’ he bellowed. He cocked his ears waiting for a response, then, sighing heavily, he pushed his chair back and peered through the side window. A frown lined his brow as his eyes settled on Matilda Barnham. What the hell did she want? Just as he was debating whether to pretend there was no one at home, he heard Annie crossing the hallway. Trust the old bat to finally put in an appearance when he didn’t wish her to. He heard the old maid run through her salutations before coming to the study. His thoughts were to tell Annie to lie, but as she entered the room, so did Matilda.

Annie gabbled an apology for Matilda’s unannounced arrival before being brusquely dismissed by her employer.

Matilda’s expression was wooden. ‘William.’

He nodded. ‘Matilda. What brings you here?’

She opened her handbag and showed him her diary.

William frowned. ‘Whose is that?’

She gave him a brittle smile. ‘Mine.’

He nodded slowly. Had she finally lost her marbles? He looked past her. ‘Are you here on your own?’ Before she could answer, he added, ‘Does Ivor know you’re out?’

She pursed her lips. ‘Why did you tell Liv that you’d had her baby cremated?’

He stared at her. ‘What on earth are you on about?’

‘You heard,’ she said simply. ‘Now answer the question.’

William was about to say that he had said it because it was true, when the penny dropped. She had brought her diary round because she had memorialised what her daughter had told her when William and Liv returned from Glasgow. Thinking on his feet, he replied, ‘Because she deserves to know the truth. I lied to Catherine because I knew it would upset her if I told her of the cremation.’