She’d always loved photography. She was beguiled by the potential that a camera held to capture the essence of a moment, or the memory of a place. Stephen had presented her with the shop out of the blue as a present for their tenth anniversary. But as grateful as she’d been at the time, it had always been more of a self-indulgent hobby than a viable business. When he’d given it to her she’d felt guilty because she’d found herself wondering whether his gift had been his way of acknowledging that there was something missing in her life – in their marriage – that neither of them had been able to bring themselves to discuss.

Whatever his motivation, she was grateful that he’d had the foresight to put it in her name. It was all she’d had left to fall back on after his death. So when David had offered her a job she’d jumped at the chance.

The trouble was, if she was being honest with herself, most of the time she was happier now than she could ever remember having been with Stephen. Not that she hadn’t loved him; she had. And she had no doubt at all that he’d loved her. But that hadn’t been quite enough. And despite the odd moment of self-doubt, since she’d accepted David’s offer she hadn’t had a moment’s regret. But now she could never quite escape the feeling that part of the reason for Stephen’s ‘accident’ was that he’d known all along that there had been something missing.

Her thoughts turned back to the present and her conversation with Mark Stone. She’d been annoyed, maybe even a little angry, that he was less than interested in the site being a target for nighthawks. But her overwhelming feeling when she’d heard the line go dead was one of disappointment. Not with his casual disregard for the nation’s heritage, but that he’d called her Mrs Hills. And for some reason that she wasn’t sure she was ready to delve into just yet, she’d had an overwhelming urge to let him know that there was no longer a Mr Hills.

‘Don’t bother, I’ll find her myself.’ The shrill female voice punctured the early afternoon tranquillity.