‘Please, Julian!’ Angelina buried her face in her hands. ‘Stop!’

‘Sorry, but I really haven’t done anything wrong and I’m sick to death of feeling I have. Don’t cry, please. It’ll sort itself out, you know.’

She nodded. ‘It’s just so hard at the moment, that’s all. Could you drive to St Stephen’s?’ Angelina placed a hand on his arm. ‘I want to go and see Rory.’

‘Of course. Then I’ll take you for lunch to that lovely pub in Itteringham. I think we could both do with a drink.’

Julian sat in the visitors’ car park while Angelina went into the school to see Rory. He was mortified by David’s public aggression, and very angry.

He looked out across Chapel Lawn, where he’d spent so much time on hot summer days as a pupil here, lazing on the grass with his friends.

Then he saw the figure, walking out of the dining room.

His knuckles tightened as he grasped the steering wheel. The colour drained from his face.

He watched as the figure passed not ten yards from him. His immediate instinct was to put his head down and hide. His palms were sweating, his heart racing as he watched the figure walk across Chapel Lawn and disappear inside one of the buildings.

He sat staring into space, his stomach churning. He hardly noticed Angelina climb into the car next to him.

‘Rory was sleeping, so I didn’t want to wake him. But he looked okay. I’ll pop in again later.’ Angelina waited for a response. ‘Darling? Are you all right? Julian?’

He shook himself back to the present, turned to her and nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘You look as though you’ve just seen a ghost.’

She was right. He had.

‘I’m fine.’ He fumbled for the keys and turned the engine on.

‘Probably delayed shock from earlier,’ Angelina commented as they pulled out of the car park. ‘Let’s go and have some lunch and both calm down.’

‘Yes.’ He looked at her and smiled. ‘And on second thoughts, maybe we should consider the idea of leaving here after all, making a new start somewhere nobody knows us.’

‘Maybe,’ nodded Angelina. ‘Let’s see how the holiday goes with Rory. It’ll do us good to all have a break from here. Then we can see how we feel when we get back.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘Yes, let’s do that.’

Chapter Eleven

Jazz drove through the familiar Cambridge streets, negotiating the not-so-familiar one-way system.

She parked in the space reserved for her parents’ car and walked past the Wolfson Building, an ugly, seventies blend of concrete and glass providing added accommodation for the students of Trinity College. Entering the arch that led to Trinity Great Court and nodding to the porter, she walked across the quad.

Perhaps it was because she had been brought up here that the mystique and beauty of the university had never touched her. But the few times she’d visited her parents since she’d come back from Italy, perhaps influenced by the beautiful architecture in Florence, she’d begun to see Cambridge in a different light.