Ria gave a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sure your mum knows what she’s doing. Besides, it was where she was brought up. Maybe that’s the draw.’

‘Ignore me,’ said Steph, shaking her head. ‘I’m just being over-anxious. I need to stop worrying about her.’

The sound of the doorbell startled both women, who exchanged a look.

Steph went over to the bay window and moved the vertical blind a fraction. She let out a gasp and darted out of sight, pinning her back to the wall.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ria crossed the room.

‘It’s … it’s Harry.’

Ria nearly spat her tea out but managed to swallow it without choking. ‘Harry Sinclair?’

‘Yes!’

‘What’s he doing here?’

Steph steadied her nerves. She hadn’t spoken to or heard from him since the day at the hospital. She genuinely believed he had walked out of her life. The doorbell rang out again, this time with a more insistent buzz, followed by a rap of knuckles on the glass. ‘I’d better see what he wants,’ said Steph, reluctantly pushing herself from the wall. She smoothed her hair with her hands and brushed herself down.

‘You look fine,’ said Ria with a smile. ‘I’ll make myself scarce upstairs. I’ll clean the bathroom. Just shout if you need me.’

Steph went to open the door as Ria disappeared. She felt rather more apprehensive than she had imagined she would. She couldn’t think for the life of her what Harry was doing here. Maybe he wanted Wendy for some reason. Yes, that must be it. She opened the door but there was no look of surprise or shock on his face.

‘Hello, Steph,’ he said. ‘Sorry to doorstep you like this, but I thought if I asked you to meet me, you might say no.’

‘I might have done,’ she said, although Steph knew in her heart of hearts, she wouldn’t have. ‘Do you want to come in? Ria is here, but she’s busy upstairs.’

‘Actually, I’m just popping out to the shop,’ said Ria, coming down the stairs. She picked up her handbag and, giving Harry a smile, she went on her way.

‘Do you want a coffee? I haven’t packed the kettle yet.’ He didn’t answer as he stood in the middle of the room looking very uncomfortable. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked gently.

‘It was Mum’s funeral last month.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Steph found herself going to comfort him, but stopped herself at the last moment, instead rubbing his upper arm with her hand. ‘I would say sit down and I’ll pour you a stiff drink, but as you can see, we’re down to sitting on the floor or packing boxes.’

‘How have you been?’ he asked with a tenderness that reminded her of their time at the lodge. She found herself yearning for those moments again.

‘Getting by,’ she said. ‘You?’

‘Much the same.’