Unable to help myself, I have spent hours scrolling through Caro’s Facebook page, a wealth of information at my fingertips. Her profile isn’t private – although I probably could have hacked in to it if necessary – and her statuses are generally upbeat, some inspirational quotes that relate to mental health, and photos of her life. There are some blank spaces – days, sometimes a couple of weeks – where she posts nothing at all, and I assume that these must coincide with her dark patches. They seem to be more frequent in the last six months of her life.

Even though it is like digging my nail under a scab that isn’t ready to be picked, I can’t stop myself from obsessively scrolling through the photographs. There are hundreds – Caro and Sadie with a drink in their hands, at a festival with flowers in their hair; Caro, Will and Amanda crowded together around a church font, clearly at a child’s christening, and then there is photo after photo of Rupert and Caro together. Holiday photos – I feel a sharp pang as I recognize Bridgetown in one – Christmas photos, charity balls, evenings out. In every picture she is clear-eyed and smiling, sometimes facing him, sometimes looking away or into the camera, but every time I am struck by the way Rupert looks at her. I don’t think he’s ever looked at me that way.

I get up from the sofa, wincing at the pins and needles that shoot through my foot, and pace the floor. Finding Rupert scrolling through Caro’s pictures means there is a chink in our closeness – a tiny gap, which if I don’t get control of, could spiral into a huge chasm, and I couldn’t bear to let that happen. I glance towards the now black laptop screen, wondering if it’s not me after all that is the problem. Maybe I need to become more like Caro. A better version of Caro. I can’t lose Rupert, not after everything that has happened. I love my life with him, and I won’t let it go without a fight, and certainly not because someone is trying to scare me off. I need to find out exactly what happened when Caro died, and do whatever it takes to lay Caro’s ghost to rest.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Excited, I spring my idea on Rupert as soon as he arrives home, but not before I guide him out into the garden. It’s dark, and mist is starting to roll in across the fields behind the house, but I’m hoping the bright glow from the security lights Rupert has installed will be enough.

‘Ta-da!’ I push him out through the back door onto the York stone patio. ‘What do you think?’