‘Dad, it’s not that.’ Rory spoke wearily. ‘It has been awful not having you at home, but . . .’ he sighed, ‘this is something a thousand times worse.’

‘What? Worse than not being able to see your old dad every day?’ David tried to lighten the atmosphere.

Rory tore silently at the grass around his feet.

David watched him, before finally saying, ‘Come on then, old chap, spit it out. You’ve started so you’d better finish.’

Rory looked for a long time into the distance. He sighed deeply, then turned to his father.

‘The thing is, Dad . . . shit! Can I whisper?’

‘Don’t think anyone’s going to hear up here, but yes, if it makes you feel better.’

‘Okay.’ Rory took a deep breath, leaned towards his father and spoke quietly into his ear.

Chapter Sixteen

Jenny Colman had spent a sleepless night since the telephone call, but she knew she had to face her. Twenty-five years was a long time, so much water under the bridge. They said you could never escape from the past and this proved that you never could.

What with Charlie Cavendish being found dead, then the shock of Hugh dying, and now a face from the past reappearing, Jenny was feeling very vulnerable. It didn’t help that Mr Jones, whom she’d adored from afar for years, looked as if he was about to have a nervous breakdown too.

At least that pretty lady inspector, who, with her lovely long, red-gold hair, reminded Jenny of a young Rita Hayworth, seemed to think, from what Mr Jones had said, that there was no foul play involved. Not that Jenny had ever expected anything else. Who would want to hurt Hugh? He’d never harm a fly, and what he had done for her when she was in trouble, well . . . Jenny would never forget his kindness and support in her moment of need.

Jenny had left work on time, stopped at the Spar to buy a bottle of wine, then rushed home to put the shepherd’s pie in the oven. She’d decided it was best if they met in her bungalow. She knew she’d feel safer on her own territory.

It was sad, she thought, as she bustled around the kitchen, pulling out the table to accommodate the two of them and covering it with a patterned vinyl tablecloth, that she was frightened at the thought of having supper with the person who’d been her closest childhood friend.

She didn’t know what to expect. Who Maddy was now.

So much had happened back then. And dredging up the past was never a good idea. Jenny had coped by tucking it safely away . . . for most of the time, anyway.

She went into her bedroom to powder her nose and apply a little lipstick. The doorbell rang and Jenny jumped. She took a deep, calming breath and walked to the front door.

The visitor stood there with a bottle of wine in her hand.