The bell rings as they leave reception, and they cross the car park in single file, Gary leading, Carole following behind. If she glances back, I’ll go after her. I’ll make up an excuse to talk to her on her own. That look she just gave me … it wasn’t just about the dog.

Look back, look back, Carole.

Lights flash as Gary points his key fob at the Range Rover, and he opens the door. Carole clambers into the passenger seat. Gary says something as she settles herself, and she takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes.

“Jane.” Sheila gently squeezes my shoulder. “I think we should have a nice cup of tea, don’t you?”

I get the subtext: Jack’s your business, Carole’s not.

She heads for the staffroom then stops suddenly. “Oh! I forgot to give you this.” She hands me an envelope. My full name is handwritten on the front: Jane Hughes, Green Fields Animal Sanctuary. “A thank you letter, I imagine.”

I run my thumb under the seal and open the envelope as Sheila waits expectantly in the doorway. There’s a single piece of paper inside, A4, folded into four. I read it quickly then fold it back up.

“Well?” Sheila asks.

“It’s from Maisie’s new owners. She’s settled in well and they’re head over heels in love with her.”

“Great.” She gives an approving nod before continuing into the staffroom.

I wait for the sound of her footsteps to fade away then glance through the glass double doors to the car park beyond. There’s an empty space where Carole and Gary’s 4×4 was parked.

I unfold the piece of paper in my hands and read it again. There’s a single sentence, written in the centre of the page in blue biro:

I know your name’s not really Jane Hughes.

Whoever sent it to me knows the truth. My real name is Emma Woolfe and for the last five years I’ve been pretending to be someone else.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Five Years Earlier

Daisy doesn’t say a word as I sit down opposite her at the table. Instead she pushes a shot towards me then glances away, distracted by a group of men squeezing their way through the pub to an empty table near the loos. One of the men at the back of the pack, a short, dark-haired guy with a paunch, does a double take. He nudges the man next to him, who pauses, glances back and gives Daisy a nod of approval. She dismisses him with the arch of one eyebrow then looks back at me.

“Drink!” she shouts, and gestures towards the glass. “Talk afterwards.”

“Nice to see you, too.”