‘Sounds like a plan.’ Both women set about their respective jobs until Eve broke the silence. ‘Anyway, I thought your cottage had three bedrooms. Couldn’t Bill Grundy sleep in the other one?’

‘It’s full of junk. Dad’s become a bit of a hoarder since Mum died. That’s not a bad idea, though. I might tell him I’ll go on holiday if he lets me clear his rubbish out of the spare room, so that Bill can sleep there.’

‘Get someone in to do it; those house clearance people.’

‘Ha! He’d have a hissy fit! Besides, Mum’s clothes are still in the wardrobe. I don’t know how he’d feel about getting rid of them and, to be honest, I’ll find it pretty hard myself.’

Eve raised her head. ‘Sorry, really thoughtless of me. But I could come around this weekend and we’ll do it together. And you’ll owe me a pub lunch, right?’

‘Thanks, you’re very kind, but I’ll get around to it, honestly.’

‘Listen, Shelly, I don’t mean to be blunt, but you’ve had more than twenty years.’

Shelly slumped into a chair. ‘I don’t know where the time’s gone, Eve. I should move on, I know it, but I can’t seem able to let go. The truth is, I don’t want to . . . I’m still hanging on to every memory.’

Eve frowned, sat beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Shelly, come on. Is this about more than your mother’s clothes? Please don’t tell me you’re still blaming yourself . . . you were sixteen!’

Remaining silent, Shelly went to the sink and scrubbed her hands viciously.

‘Perhaps you should talk about it?’ Eve said. ‘You know I’m always here for you.’

Shelly peered into Eve’s eyes, opened her mouth to speak, but felt tears rise. She wanted to talk about it, to tell those close to her what had really happened that awful year, the whole story from beginning to end. It had shredded her life and made any future relationship impossible, simply because she could never forgive them; never forgive herself. Never.

She snapped her mouth shut and shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, really.’

Eve sighed. ‘OK, say no more, but I will be around on Sunday to sort that bedroom. We’ll photograph everything too, just for the memories. Scrapbooking, you know? And then I’m starting on you, madam. Hairdressers, nail salon, and some new clothes, right?’

‘Thanks, but really, I’ve got better things to do with my money.’

‘Shelly Summer, you’ve no right depriving the world of that beautiful woman you’re hiding! Come on, what do you say? Just do it to please me, then we’ll go out for a meal and a drink for my birthday.’

Shelly frowned. ‘Your birthday’s in October.’

‘So what? You’ll be early for once.’