‘Oh, well do keep me updated on—’

Anna became aware of an acrid smell from the frying pan. She looked down and swore. ‘I’d better go, Mum! I’m burning the dinner!’

‘Of course, of course,’ she replied. ‘Love you, darling! Now go and save that delicious curry!’

Anna said a hasty goodbye, then turned her attention to her dinner. Was the chicken charred? She inspected it with her spatula, turning different bits over. Maybe a little. But not so badly she needed to abandon the dish. So what if it was a little smokier than normal?

She tipped the can of coconut milk into the pan and stirred. As she put the rice on, her thoughts returned to her conversation with her mother. How wonderful it would be if everyone could find their own ‘Brody’. But how would you do it?

She glanced across to her phone still sitting on the shelf and reached for it, intending to use the timer function to make sure she didn’t burn the rice as well, but when she saw row upon row of colourful icons, she froze.

An app.

She shook her head as she picked up the phone and set the timer going, then she put the phone back on the shelf and looked at it, watching the numbers counting down to when her dinner would be ready.

Was that even possible? Just the thought made something surge inside her chest. She didn’t know. However, she knew a couple of people who might.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

BRODY DROVE INTO his yard, climbed from his Land Rover and slammed the door, aware that Lewis was probably sitting the other side of the back door waiting for him, wondering where he’d been. Brody had driven all the way to the outskirts of Dartmouth that morning, but he hadn’t been able to take Lewis with him. Therapists (or whatever the official title was) didn’t appreciate furry, four-legged chaperones for their appointments, he’d discovered.

He’d looked the guy up on the internet a couple of months ago, not long after Anna had told him about going to the racetrack. This had been his sixth session. He had no idea if it was working yet. Especially as the only place he’d been, other than out on the moor or on his own land, was to Ibrahim’s office for his sessions, and just driving in the direction of any town got him all stressed out anyway.

He unlocked the back door and was greeted by a slightly frantic and pleased-to-see-him Lewis, before the dog bounded past him, running off to the other side of the yard, where he started barking in the direction of the footpath that ran down the side of the property. It wasn’t a territorial kind of bark, but a ‘look at this!’ kind of bark.

At the very same moment, Brody saw a flash of colour in his peripheral vision. He turned to see a woman in brightly coloured walking gear, and beside her, a man in darker, more muted colours.