Lizzie got back in the car and turned right, following the lane towards some huge metal gates that were very firmly closed. The name Oakhangar Hall was picked out in gold on a black wrought iron nameplate. Lizzie didn’t really remember any of this from the last time she had been there for Dudley and Amelia’s wedding. She’d had a car and a driver that day and she’d spent the journey listening to her latest album on headphones. She smiled a little wryly at the memory.

She got out and pressed the bell. She’d expected there to be the usual crowd of journalists about but perhaps news of Johnny’s return hadn’t yet got out.

The intercom on the gate crackled but there was no response. A second later, however, the gates swung open silently and she drove through and they shut behind her. Lizzie had the oddest sensation of a trap closing. She’d always been a bit claustrophobic, wary of being penned in.

A short drive led to the house. She sat for a moment looking at it before she put the car into gear. Her main feeling was surprise; she’d forgotten how ugly it was with its pointed window arches, spiral chimneys and quaint little turrets. Amelia had clearly done some more work on it in the years since the wedding; large windows created a wall of glass on the west side of the courtyard and the stables were clearly new but in a style that copied but did not quite pull off the character of the original. It was all a bit too much for Lizzie, a mad mixture that shouted, “Look at me!”

She pulled up in front of the main entrance. Four grotesque carved faces, a lot less friendly than the stone angel at the church, adorned the door embrasure and did nothing to make her feel welcome. She felt spiky and unsettled enough to make her almost turn tail and run.

“Hi.” Arthur was waiting for her. His smile was warm and it made Lizzie feel a little bit sick in anticipation of what she was about to do. She’d lain awake a long time the previous night trying to decide whether to tell Arthur what she knew, but in the end, had decided against it. It was Johnny she needed to talk to, not Arthur. Johnny held the key to the mystery.

“Thanks for coming,” Arthur said. He kissed her and for one long moment Lizzie closed her eyes and blotted out what was to come and let the warmth and the pleasure of it unfurl in her.

“Hey,” Arthur said softly, when he let her go. “It’s good to see you.” He drew her into the hall. “Come and meet Sam. Anna’s here too,” he added. He saw Lizzie’s quick glance. “It’s OK—” he touched her arm briefly, a fleeting reassurance “—she’s just so glad to have Johnny back that I’m sure she won’t cause any trouble.”

The hall was even more grotesque than the outside of the house. Lizzie remembered the huge stone gothic vaulting and stained-glass windows. She glanced towards the staircase.