As she soaked in the bath a while later, Sarah breathed in the silence of her cramped but comfortable home. Changes needed to be made, she knew that. In her diet, her lifestyle, and her job. But most of all she needed to learn to live on her own. Lavender steam relaxed her as she thought about her old friends. Elsie, Maggie, Lewis, David … they had all grown up here and all suffered in one way or another. What was it about Slayton that drew them all together, battle-scarred misfits of life?

Changed into a clean tracksuit, Sarah planned her attack. There was a late night of housework ahead of her. Not quite the excitement of CID tonight but it would keep her mind off things. And it was about time. Towel-drying her hair, she walked into the kitchen, exhaling a sigh of relief. Peace. David was gone, at least for now. These days, her husband seemed like the harbinger of doom, undermining her confidence and when it came to work, making her feel inadequate. She needed to make a clean break. Her gaze fell on the shed at the end of her garden, his old domain. Clearing it of his things was another job for her to-do list, although she was nervous about what she might find. Outside, the fence rattled in a gust of wind. It was only gone eight and evening had closed in.

‘Hey, puss,’ she said, as Sherlock joined her in the kitchen. ‘Would you like a cuddle?’ His tail aloft, the ginger cat swerved Sarah’s outstretched hands and made his exit through the cat flap. ‘I guess that’s a no, then,’ Sarah said, her attention drawn to the mat beneath. There was an envelope sitting on it that hadn’t been there before. Time stopped around her.

It wasn’t the envelope which frightened her. It was the name written in blue fountain-pen ink. With trembling hands, she reached for it, blood pounding in her ears. It was a name she had not been addressed by in a very long time.

Sarah Middleton.

14

‘Who’s that?’ Elsie called from the living room, as a lock rattled in the front door. Her body clock measured in mealtimes and she had run out of snacks.

‘It’s me,’ Christian called cheerfully, letting himself into the hall.

‘You’re late,’ she said. ‘It’s almost six o’clock.’

‘I was at the library picking up your books.’ He looked at her curiously as he let himself in. ‘Who else would it be anyway?’ His shirt tail was hanging out and his fringe was falling into his face.

‘It might have been Sarah.’ Elsie’s eyes trailed over the books cradled in his arm.

‘Who?’

‘Sarah. She’s a police officer. We used to go to school together. She called to see me today.’

‘Right. The gate.’ He released the books onto her bed.