I stood for a moment, trying to compose myself. Giving her a little space to control things, pack away the spilled-out emotions like clothes into a travel bag. Something I wished people had done for me, at the times I needed it. The etiquette around giving bad news should really be: deliver it, then go away and leave the person in a darkened room, alone. Place food outside their door, though they won’t be able to eat it. Clean and tidy and step back into the shadows. But it seemed Suzi was not the kind of person who reacted that way.

She came running into my front garden, almost slipping on the damp, weed-choked flagstones. Upset again – I wondered what it was this time. ‘Nora! Nora!’ She was panting, and could hardly get the words out. ‘Please! Help me!’

I went to her. She grabbed on to the jacket I was wearing, an old Barbour thing that had belonged to my husband. ‘What’s the matter?’ I tried to make my voice caring, not cold, but the training was so ingrained. Don’t make a scene. Go indoors, you silly girl. Not that there was anyone to hear us.

‘He’s dead! Nora, he’s been killed! A car crash!’

‘Who are you talking about? Suzi, what’s happened?’

She choked it out: ‘The man I’m in love with. The man I – had an affair with. He’s dead.’ And she began to clutch at her hair, almost pulling it out, so extreme was her pain.

PART TWO

PART TWO

Alison

Alison

FEBRUARY – THREE MONTHS LATER

DC Alison Hegarty paused to kick snow from her sodden leather boots, reflecting that she should have taken her dad’s advice after all and bought the walking ones in the Blacks winter sale. These flimsy high-street things were no match for the snow and ice piled up around the cottages. This was proper deep country; she’d not even had phone reception since being out here.

The first cottage was entirely dilapidated, choked with ivy and no doubt many spiders. She’d given it a wide berth as they tramped down the lane. The second at least had lights on, fighting against the gloom of a winter afternoon. The third was in darkness, shuttered up as if no one had been there in weeks.

Tom Khan looked cast down. ‘I could murder a sausage roll. How far do you think it is to the nearest Greggs?’

‘You should have brought lunch.’

‘Yeah yeah, some of us have actual lives. I got in at four, I’m not about to get up and start spreading Flora, am I? Unless her name’s Flora! Ha ha.’

Alison rolled her eyes. ‘Well, aren’t you the party animal. What was it this time, Tinder?’

He winked. ‘It’s almost too easy. Like ordering up a Domino’s. Except it’s her that gets the meat feast.’