There were several people standing in the doorway of the Bunagee Arms as I drove by. I was surprised to see Marina among them, chatting to a man. With the difficulty in getting about, it surprised me that she had come here for a drink rather than staying in Glendara. I tried to catch a glimpse of who she was with, thinking I’d be surprised if Harry would have had time for a drink, even now.

Then the man turned, and I saw his face. It was Barbour-jacket man, the man from the beach and the pub and Liam’s window. Hairs rose on the back of my neck. I seemed to be seeing him everywhere now.

I pulled in about twenty meters past the pub and took a surreptitious picture on my phone from across the road. My mouth was dry, but I didn’t think they saw me – they were too engrossed in their conversation. The man was having a cigarette and Marina was berating him about something, her face flushed an angry red – she looked to be almost weeping. I watched for a few minutes until they went back into the pub. The show was over, but at least now I had my picture.

I continued to Glendara, my stomach tightly knotted, feeling oddly betrayed. Marina had been working for me, running my practice, living in my house and going out with my ex-boyfriend. So what was she doing with this man?

One question came tumbling after the other. Was he Lissa’s husband? A violent man who had threatened her life. Had he brought the snake here? Was he involved in Bob Jameson’s death? Was that why Derek had attacked him in the Oak? I stopped myself – with all those questions, my mind was running away with me.

I drove through Glendara, where the surface water was starting to drain away too, and out towards the hospital. I checked at reception to make sure that Lissa was still there and I found her room easily enough, hesitating for a moment before knocking. A voice answered and I opened the door.

The first thing I noticed was that she was no longer on a drip, a good sign I presumed, and although I hadn’t seen her after she’d been admitted, she looked a hell of a lot better than she had on the footpath outside the bookies. Her hair was screwed up on top of her head in a weird topknot and she was scrubbed free of make-up, making her look younger or slightly older, I couldn’t make up my mind. Different anyway, more vulnerable. Stray strands of lank hair hung alongside slightly protruding ears I hadn’t noticed before.