‘I’m off,’ Devan said, two days later, holdall in hand as he stood in the hall. ‘Be back tomorrow lunchtime.’

He was attending a board meeting of the Royal College of General Practitioners – about GP education and support – in Bristol. Although it was less than an hour’s drive, he was staying overnight. After the meeting, he and his doctor friends liked to settle in at the hotel bar and make a night of it, catch up with all the affronts they’d suffered at the hands of their patients, and the NHS.

She put her arms round him and gave him a tight embrace. ‘Have fun,’ she said, breathing in his warm scent and loving him so much.

Connie had not seen Jared again. But, then, she’d barely been out, except to scurry to the car or hurry up the road in the opposite direction to his cottage when she took Riley out. She’d almost managed to convince herself that he wasn’t really there. But the tenderness she’d been showering on Devan was already making him wonder what was up.

‘You’re being very nice to me,’ he’d commented the day before, when she’d helped him tidy the garden shed, then made cheese scones for tea.

She’d laughed nervously as she poured his tea. ‘Am I usually such a harridan?’

‘No,’ he’d replied, then looked across the table, suddenly serious as he buttered his warm scone. ‘You know I wasn’t ever really questioning our marriage before. That would have been nuts.’ He grinned. ‘Especially as you make such delicious scones.’

Connie had grinned back. Now that the initial shock of bumping into Jared had worn off a little and she had some perspective, she was feeling more optimistic. I can make him see sense, she told herself. He’s not going to stick around once I’ve made my position clear. Now, watching her husband drive off to his board meeting, she had only one mission: to see Jared and make absolutely sure he left the village.

She waited till dark. The last thing she needed was gossip. The Williamsons, in the cottage to the right of Jared’s, were old and would be firmly ensconced in front of the television, curtains closed, as soon as they’d finished their tea. She’d been past often enough with Riley to know. The house on the other side was another of the many owned by weekenders: a young London couple who rarely came down outside the summer months. ‘Please, please be in,’ she muttered to herself, as she walked briskly through the village streets, Riley in tow as cover.