‘Of course.’ Tom smiles and his eyes dance. I know a party is the last thing he wants. He’s been made impotent by the mole and his clever brain will be assessing his options. The real question is, what are mine? I look back to the house, but George is no longer at the window.

45. Diana

45

Diana

4 August 2018, 4.15 p.m.

A young woman with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail was putting a large bouquet of flowers on her father’s grave. Diana watched her. She was young, early twenties at a guess. Her clothes didn’t give much away. She wore cropped jeans with white trainers and when she turned around Diana saw David Bowie on her t-shirt.

‘Hi,’ she said, smiling as she walked past me to the gate.

‘Who are you and why are you putting flowers on my father’s grave?’

The woman stopped. ‘He belongs to you?’

Diana nodded.

‘Oh.’ She took a few steps towards Diana. Her face was open. ‘I’m Hannah Hollis and I come here once a year – normally on the fifth – but I’m heading up to London to begin a job on Monday, so I hoped no one would mind if I did this a day early.’

‘Should I know you?’

She grinned. She had an open face. ‘No, I doubt it. I only met Old Tom in 2011 and I made my first visit here in 2012.’

‘Old Tom?’ Something stirred inside Diana.

‘Sorry, Tom Martin.’

Tom Martin. She knew it. ‘Are you related? His granddaughter, maybe?’

‘No, just a friend.’

Diana’s eye’s narrowed.

‘Sounds weird but he befriended me when I moved to Cornwall.’ Her smiled widened. ‘He saw something worthwhile in me when I sure as hell couldn’t, and I’m not sure anyone else could.’

‘Oh.’ Diana looked at the roses and the lilies resting against the gravestone. ‘The bouquet?’

‘Old Tom brought flowers here all the time when he was alive and made provision in his will for someone to continue.’ She peered at her. ‘I gather they were long-time friends and had been to school together. I only come once a year. But I feel it was important to him if he wanted someone to be tending the grave even after he couldn’t do it.’

‘They were friends.’ As Diana said those words, an image flashed in her head.

‘I’ve never seen anyone here before – not that I’ve been here loads.’

‘No, I shouldn’t think my father has many visitors.’ She sighed. She should have come but even now a kind of fury filled her.

Hannah looked at her closely. ‘I don’t visit my own father’s grave.’ She paused. ‘It hurts too much and to be honest I’m still angry with him.’ She shrugged. ‘But every time I’m home in Cornwall I spend a lot of time at Old Tom’s grave.’

Diana frowned.