Jen rubs his back. ‘You can’t think like that, babe,’ she says gently. ‘You said yourself your mother’s death destroyed him. I know your dad had – has – a temper, but he had a very stressful job and unfortunately he took his frustrations out on you and your mum. But I’ve no doubt he’s always loved you both.’

He nods, a lump in his throat. He remembers the shock and devastation in his dad’s face the day it happened.

‘Finding out about Cynthia has just changed . . . everything.’

They fall silent, Jen still stroking his back. Then, ‘Let’s go,’ she announces. ‘Let’s go to Wiltshire and look these people up. And if they can’t shed any light, well, it would be nice to have a weekend away. I think we both need it, don’t you?’

26

Saffy

AFTER I’VE SHOWN THE DETECTIVES OUT I CALL MUM but it goes straight to voicemail. I don’t leave a message. She promised to ring me when she was on the way home and it’s not yet 5 p.m. I wonder if her lunch with Dad was productive and if she managed to find out Alan Hartall’s address. She did say she’d let me know her plans. Typical of my mum. She’s so flighty, she probably hasn’t even considered I’d like to know when she’s coming back.

I’m at my desk when a knock startles me. I go to the front door and peer through the glass. A smartly dressed woman in a polka dot blouse stands on the other side. I pull the door open a crack. ‘Yes?’

‘Saffron Cutler?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hello, my name is Nadia Barrows and I’m from the Daily Mail. Would it be possible to –’

‘I’m not interested. Please go away,’ I say firmly, closing the door before she can respond. I go back into my study. From the window I can see a pack of about five reporters clustered together at the end of my driveway. Neil Lewisham’s name must have been released already. They’ll want to quiz me about Gran, I bet. There are no blinds or curtains at the study window. Can they see me? This is a nightmare. I don’t want to have to be dealing with this on my own with Tom at work and Mum out of the house. I put my head in my hands and groan, nausea sweeping over me. I feel Snowy brush against my legs and I bend down to pat his head. He can always sense when I’m stressed.

My phone buzzes by my ear and I lift my head. A text from Dad flashes up on the screen. Hi, sweetheart. I’ve emailed you the file on Sheila Watts. Saw your mum at lunch. She looked well. I have a couple of addresses for an Alan Hartall in Broadstairs so she headed there xx