Occasionally, when she closes her eyes at night, she has visions of Daphne kneeling in the garden, prising up the patio slabs to bury Rose alongside Neil. Sometimes it’s so sharp that she wonders if it’s a repressed memory and that she had witnessed it. It’s something she’s working on with Felicity, her psychiatrist. No wonder Daphne never sold the cottage and why it stood empty for a while before she rented it out. She couldn’t risk anyone finding the bodies.

But she won’t think of that today. Because today the scene in the garden is a happy one. The sun is high in the cloudless sky and there, on the lawn, fussing over their nine-month-old daughter, Freya, are Saffy and Tom. Tom’s laid out her colourful playmat on the grass and she sits, like the queen she’s become to them all, in her little yellow dress, surrounded with stuffed toys and teething rings. Saffy is lying beside her, propped up by her elbow. Lorna knows Saffy has surprised herself by how much she loves her little girl. And it’s given her a new confidence, a bloom that Lorna is proud to witness. Next to them on two sun-loungers, smiling indulgently, are Theo and a pregnant Jen. They got lucky on their first round of IVF and Jen is due in eight weeks’ time.

It’s worked out well for them all, she thinks, glancing around, a cold glass of Pimm’s in her hand. And she’s pleased for them, she really is. She’s happy to be living in England, has, for once in her life, put down roots in Portishead. She has even bought her own apartment overlooking the marina in the same block as the flat she rented when she first moved back from Spain – and sometimes, especially on a hot day, it feels like she’s abroad. A homeowner at last. And she’s closer to Saffy than she’s ever been. After Saffy gave birth they had a real heart-to-heart.

‘I love her so much it hurts,’ Saffy had said, holding her newborn daughter in her arms in her hospital bed. She’d stared at Lorna with tears in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the things I said, doubting you. You’re the best mum in the world. And now I know . . . the love I feel for Freya. God, I’d die for her.’

‘Like I’d die for you.’

And they’d smiled at each other over Freya’s tufty hair. A smile of understanding. Mother to mother.