‘What man?’ Glenn’s eyes narrowed.

‘I don’t know. A man. Forties probably, big build, smart. He said he was there for the view. I told him the view was on the other side of the grounds and I was almost rude. I don’t like talking to people up there. But he didn’t leave. Then he said he knew me. He used my name, he knew that Angela was my wife. He said he was some private investigator and that at the time of the accident he was working with insurance fraud. He said he knew who had killed Angela.’

There was a silence. Glenn finally filled it with a sigh. ‘Did he tell you? A name, I mean?’

‘No.’ Richard tutted again.

Glenn sighed again. ‘I can imagine … I can imagine how difficult this has all been and I can imagine how much you want to believe that—’

‘I didn’t really give him a chance. I got angry. I just thought he was there for a windup …’ Richard knew how this was sounding out loud.

‘And you don’t think he was? There to wind you up, I mean?’

‘I don’t know!’ That feeling again, that feeling of being old and useless and doddery. Glenn was the last person in the world he wanted to show weakness too. He wasn’t going to admit that he had struggled to even get off that bench this morning, that he had needed to sit for twenty minutes until his heart had settled and his vision was back. He had been so sure at first, so angry that someone would seek him out while he was sitting with Angela, that someone would choose that moment to make false promises. The cruelty. But the more he had gone back over what he had said, the more he was doubting himself and his convictions.

‘Okay,’ Glenn said. ‘I would have got angry too. I don’t see why someone would want to talk to anyone while they were at a graveside. That really isn’t the time—’

‘Missy …’ Richard cut back in. ‘When we went to see the litter, when we picked her out, there were eight dogs. A big litter. They’d wrapped bows round them all. Three pink and five blue. When we walked in I was talking to the breeder, but Angela, she went straight over. The pups were all together, bunched around their mum. But one puppy broke away. It had a little pink bow and it headed straight for Angela. I’ll never forget. Angela went down to her knee and she held out her hand and that little pup bundled right onto it to be picked up. And Angela …’ Richard had to take a moment, the memory as clear as if he was there now. His wife’s face was never more beautiful than when it was filled with a beaming smile. He had known straight away that it was love. ‘Angela held that pup in her hand and she said, “Well, hello there, Missy!” First thing she said. And that was it. The puppy was ours and the name stuck. We never told anyone that.’