Unfortunately, a passing hack had overheard. Next thing, Paula had sold her story to all the papers, and for a couple of weeks Meredith had been featured in numerous tabloid articles with headlines such as ‘My Ex Rockstar Best Friend Shagged My Husband Right before His Murder’. Paula had sold the house and moved away, to live closer to her sister in Norfolk, so at least they weren’t likely to bump into each other.

Meredith wrote her a long and heartfelt letter of apology, to which Paula never replied; but it was closure, of sorts, for Meredith at least. She hadn’t expected Paula to ever forgive her.

Her colleagues at Minstead House had been astonished to learn about her fling with Ralph, as well as her colourful past as Cohen’s punky lead singer, but, to a tweedy man and twinsetted woman, they had been kind and supportive. The Earl begged her not to resign every time she tried to, and in the end they agreed she could have a year’s sabbatical to recuperate and do some travelling. By the time she got back, hopefully the not-inconsiderable numbers of Cohen’s fan club who kept showing up at the shop and the cottage, asking for her, would have lost interest again. Meredith had moved in with Pete on the boat, partly to escape the curious tourists and partly to help him recuperate from the operation on his arm.

They’d moved the Barton Bee to a different mooring though, in Kingston, to be nearer the hospital and away from the marina in Minstead, which held so many poignant memories of Andrea and Ralph.

At least Meredith had had the chance to thank Gemma properly for finding them in time. She hadn’t seen her since the days after the attack, when Gemma visited Pete in hospital. Six months on, with her braces off and her hair cut into a more sophisticated shoulder-length style, Meredith thought she looked much older, in a good way. More self-possessed, less gauche. They caught up for coffee in a café round the corner from the court.

‘It wasn’t just me,’ Gemma had said. ‘It was Emad, really, who did more of the important stuff. He’s the one who figured out the link between you and Catherine-slash-Caitlin. He was the one who stopped her from killing you after we’d assumed she was dead. I couldn’t have done it without him.’

‘Well, please tell him how grateful Pete and I are, to him too,’ Meredith had said, and to her surprise, Gemma had blushed, the pink stain making her resemble her younger self again.

‘I’ll tell him this evening,’ she said, fiddling with the sugar bowl. ‘We’ve actually been dating for a few months now.’

‘Ha! That’s lovely,’ said Meredith, with only a slight trace of wistfulness.