Izzy scooted off, pulling her cardigan over her head to protect her from the rain, and Taisie counted, eyes closed. As she stood there, two cool hands covered her eyes, making her cry out in irritation, thinking it was Alex or Rory. But as soon as she tried to pull them off, she knew who it was. The hands were far too big and clean-smelling to belong to either of her brothers.

GRACE

Saturday, 21 April 2018

‘ANOTHER ONE?’ CORA COMMENTS AS I POUR MYSELF A second glass of white wine.

I can feel myself blush. I put the bottle down, my glass half full. I only wanted to dull the voice in my head.

‘What time are you going out?’ she asks. ‘You don’t want to turn up already tipsy. It isn’t dignified.’

‘I’m not going out.’

I said yes to Cassie on impulse, but I’ve had time to think better of it. I’ll only want to turn round and go home the moment I’ve got there. I’ve already texted Cassie to let her know. She understands.

‘Really?’ Cora says, not bothering to hide her disappointment. ‘Is it that detective inspector? He’s not going to think any the worse of you.’

‘It’s not the inspector. I just don’t feel up to it.’

She looks at me through narrowed eyes. ‘Won’t you be letting your friends down?’

‘They’ll understand.’

She wanders over to stand where I usually do, her back against the counter. She even echoes my posture, arms loosely folded around her stomach, the small of her back against the edge, one ankle crossed over the other. The hostess’s perch.

‘What a shame.’

Tim appears, wearing Nick’s leather slippers. ‘You haven’t got your face on.’ To give him credit, he doesn’t look as disappointed as his wife.

‘She’s not going out after all,’ Cora says. ‘I’ve told her she should.’

‘Of course you should,’ Tim says. ‘It’ll perk you up. You don’t want to spend your Saturday night hanging out with the oldies.’

‘You need your friends, Grace,’ Cora says. ‘Don’t push people away.’

It’s the first thing she’s said to me that I agree with. Since last Sunday, apart from the coffee morning that I floated through like I was on an acid trip, I’ve avoided my friends. I can’t believe it’s only been a week. It feels like a month has gone by. My phone beeps to tell me I have a message. I glance at it. It’s from Douglas, and my stomach drops. It must be about Lottie.

Lottie told me Tim’s been reading her bedtime stories. I don’t want that happening again.

I glance up at Tim. He’s decanting Toffee’s food into his bowl.

I type back. You’re being paranoid.