I stared at my surroundings of embossed old-fashioned wallpaper, the rattling beaded kitchen curtain and the creaky leather furniture. Was that why Lily was so protective of Merry Wood? Because it was the connection to Flynn and to happy times in her past, and she didn’t want to lose them.

But what had happened to the Talbots? Why was the house sitting empty like this?

I was only half listening to Baz prattling on about deadlines. As soon as he packed up and the three models had been swept away in their respective tinted SUVs, I hurried from Merry Wood and across the sun-stippled woodland to Lily’s cottage.

My stomach and my heart were swooping. She would know I’d read her letter, but what could I do?

I arrived at her front door, the polished panels of glass capturing the marmalade sun from her windows. I wouldn’t blame her if she slammed the door in my face.

As I hovered there, clutching the letter in my apprehensive, charged hands, I quickly came to the realisation Lily wasn’t even prepared to do that. I was certain I caught sight of a figure hovering behind her sitting room curtains, but if Lily was home, it soon became clear she wasn’t going to answer the door to me.

I lingered for a few moments more. “Lily,” I called out. “Mrs Cruickshank. I’m very sorry. If I had thought for one moment that those two cretins were capable of doing something like that…”

There was the faint flutter of towels drying on her washing line.

“Anyway, I have a letter to give to you.” I hesitated as I stared down at the delicate paper. Was I doing the right thing? I’d discovered a letter addressed to her inside Merry Wood. She would be imagining me prowling around with my journalistic hat on. She would wonder how I came to find it.

After a couple more moments of inwardly debating whether to tell Lily about the letter from Flynn Talbot, I knew I had to make a decision. She wouldn’t believe I found it by accident. She didn’t trust me now as it was.

I lingered at the letterbox.

Then I let out a long, low breath and set my shoulder bag down by my feet. I rummaged inside for my notebook and pen. I leant against one of Lily’s garden chairs and scribbled an IOU for £100 to Lily, then I tore another page out of my reporter’s notebook and dashed off a note: