Amanda noticed. Sara wished she hadn’t. They had been friends since their first year at university. The kind of friend Sara had never had before and would never have again. The kind of friend who doesn’t know the meaning of secrets, who knows your soul, who can fill the cracks in your heart. A friend who will tell you things you don’t want to hear.

But still, for all her good intentions, Amanda had only made things worse. Some things are better left alone. No good can come from digging under the stones of someone else’s life. None at all. Amanda should have known that.

Sara closed her eyes and listened to the rattle of the van, let it pull her back to the here and now. Tony didn’t speak much as he drove, and Sara was glad. He had a calm stillness about him that seemed catching, his presence soothing the jangling nerves that had become a constant in her existence. The unending awareness of Damien’s temper, his mood swings, how her smallest transgressions could bring that rage out of him. But here, with this man, the static of fear seemed to fade.

She had a sense of a haze lifting, a clarity of sight she hadn’t experienced for months, maybe years, and she supposed it should have frightened her. But it didn’t. The very idea of being alone with another man should have terrified her. But it didn’t.

Sara turned her attention back to the world outside the van as the first homes on the edge of Morganstown came into view. The village was not much more than a main street with a scattering of housing developments branching away from it. It had been named after the owner of the linen mill who had built rows of small homes to house his workers. The mill was long gone, but his name and some of the houses remained. Damien had told her this when he described their new home to her, but he had definitely not mentioned the old woman or her troubled past. She was sure about that, or as sure as she could be. And she desired to know more about that woman and what brought her to the doorstep of the house that had been taken from her.

As they approached the main street, Tony pulled the van over to the kerb. He nodded to the other side of the road, and the shop on the corner. A table stood outside, laden with potted plants, flowers and herbs. Bags of coal and firewood were stacked underneath.

“That’s it,” Tony said. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, wondering if he understood how grateful she truly was.