Pete too had a new relationship – with Lucy, the physiotherapist who’d been helping him post-op. She was lovely, petite and pretty, with a dry sense of humour that made them both laugh a lot.

It felt amazing to laugh again.

Lucy didn’t have enough holiday entitlement left to join them in their villa for the whole three weeks of their holiday, but she was flying out for the last seven days. Meredith was looking forward to it almost as much as Pete.

During the week after Catherine Brown’s sentencing, there was one final surprise. The new Minstead shop manager received an email with the words ‘Please Forward to Meredith Vincent’ in the subject line.

When Meredith read it, it didn’t take her long to reply, giving only the address of the boat’s mooring, and a date.

At the appointed time, two late-middle-aged women turned up on the dock, both dressed in sensible matching holiday clothes: sturdy jeans, walking boots, some sort of Gore-Tex jacket, little backpacks, both with short iron-grey hair. Meredith had to do a double-take, but as soon as she saw the face of the taller of the two, she knew.

‘They’re here,’ she said to Pete, who was resting on the sofa with his feet up. She stuck her head out of the door, and waved them over.

‘Samantha! Come on in.’

Samantha immediately hugged her tight, and for a moment the years and all the resentment fell away.

‘My God, Meredith, what you’ve been through. And look at you!’ – she pushed Meredith gently away and scrutinised her at arms’ length. Her midwestern twang was even stronger than it had been last time they’d met, Meredith thought. ‘You look amazing, honey … Oh, and this is my wife, Shelley!’

They all shook hands. Shelley was short and cheerful; older than Samantha with deep laugh lines around her eyes and furrows on her forehead.

‘You look just the same,’ said Meredith, which made Samantha laugh. ‘Oh sure. Thirty-five years later, with grey hair and flab! Thirty-five years, can you believe it?’

‘Is it really?’ Meredith asked, although she remembered well. 1983, the year she dropped out of her A levels, lost Dad, abandoned Pete and her mother.

Samantha had been the architect of so much destruction in her life, and for years Meredith had only been able to focus on that. But now that Samantha was finally standing in front of her, Meredith was able to remember the positive things too. Love, passion, the boys in the band. Creativity, and the success that followed. Her first love.

After all, it hadn’t been Samantha’s fault that Caitlin was a psychopath.

Later, over mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits, Samantha leaned forwards.