They fell into a small silence as Steph contemplated Cameron’s revelation. At a push, she could imagine Harry being angry and possibly confronting him in the pub, but the idea that he’d punched Cameron didn’t sit that comfortably with her. It was hard to imagine Harry doing such a thing; he seemed so in control of his emotions, or at the very least kept his emotions in check. What little she knew of him, he didn’t strike her as someone who flew off the handle. So the idea that he had purposely run Cameron down in his car was verging on the ridiculous. Or was that because she didn’t want to believe it of him? She tried to nudge her own personal feelings to the side. Was the Harry of two years ago a different man to the Harry of today? Had the death of his wife changed him? Or was it just a different side of him she hadn’t yet witnessed? She hadn’t seen the vindictive side of him, the side where reprisal didn’t just mean at the public humiliation of a beating but also a premeditated and chilling act of violence, a potentially fatal action. And, as if that wasn’t enough, to pay for Cameron’s silence too. Was Harry capable of this? If he was, did it also make him capable of murder?

‘Look, I need to get back to the bar,’ said Cameron, breaking into her thoughts.

‘Yeah, sure. Thanks for talking to me,’ said Steph, standing up. ‘Oh, sorry, just one more thing.’ She rummaged in her bag and withdrew her notebook, flicking to the page where she’d made notes of some of the things in Elizabeth’s book. ‘Does Cameron 230 2206 mean anything to you?’

Cameron craned his neck to look at the page. He shook his head. ‘Nope. Should it?’

‘Elizabeth wrote it in her notebook.’

‘Sorry, can’t help you there, but she never called me Cameron, always Cam.’

‘OK, thanks.’ Steph put the notebook back in her bag. Elizabeth’s handwriting had looked a bit rushed to Steph when she had copied it down. She’d go back and have another look at it.

‘Mind how you go,’ said Cameron. ‘You seem like a nice person.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look.’

‘All the same, watch your step.’

Conmere, Sunday, 12 May, 6.55 p.m.

When Steph arrived back at Conmere, the evening sky was clear and the residual sun still strong enough to warm her face. She loved evenings like this usually but tonight her enjoyment had been tainted by thoughts of Harry and the alleged attack on Cameron. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t imagine Harry doing such a thing.