She was about to put the kettle on but turned and headed out of the back door to visit Mrs Hoskine. She was always up early and Lottie had a few more questions for her. Outside the air was cool and damp. The sky was cloudless and would be deep blue soon but right now it was washed white with soft pink edges. Lottie waved to a dog walker in the field. With each step she tried to formulate what she wanted to say. The question was how to broach it. Did she just come right out with it?

‘Morning,’ Alex whispered in her ear.

She jumped. Where the hell had he come from?

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘Startle? Scare the hell out of me, you mean.’

‘Off to see my grandmother again?’ he asked, walking alongside her. They passed the church and she glanced at Allan’s grave.

‘How did you guess?’

‘Might be me hearing you whisper her name, or it could be the direction.’

‘No, was I talking out loud?’ She rubbed her temple.

He nodded.

‘That’s what lack of sleep does for you.’ She yawned just to confirm it.

‘Thought I saw a light on in the small hours.’

‘Why were you awake?’

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t see you come back.’

She turned to him. ‘Why were you watching?’

‘I was worried about you. Joan is dying, and your mum is taking it and being here, hard.’

She was about to bite back that she was well aware of that but swallowed it. ‘Thanks.’

‘Now why are you off to see my grandmother?’

‘Looking for more answers.’

‘Let it go. Your grandmother was talking nonsense.’

She turned towards him. He was pushing this ‘forget it’ stuff too much. ‘She wasn’t, and I know she killed my grandfather.’

‘Come on, that’s ridiculous. Joan couldn’t hurt a fly.’

That was what she had always thought but now she knew differently. She stopped, hands on her hips. ‘She pushed him off the cliff.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

He tilted his head to one side and gave one of his half smiles. ‘You’re imagining things through lack of sleep.’

‘I wish.’ She marched off.

‘No, I’m serious.’

‘So am I. Last night Pat Treneer called looking to talk to Mum but she wasn’t around.’ Lottie took a breath as they reached his grandmother’s gate. ‘He remembered something, something that bothered him and something that told him it wasn’t just a drunk man falling off the cliff . . .’

‘And what?’ He crossed arms.

‘Allan was clutching a silk bow from a woman’s dress.’

‘That wasn’t in the coroner’s report.’ He frowned.

Why had he read that, Lottie wondered. Morbid curiosity?

‘It might not have been your grandmother’s. He could have picked it up because he’d found it on the ground.’ He ran a hand through his hair.