Most of the photographs displayed in John’s living room were of Marnie and Lucy, but one large picture hung on the wall over the table: John and Denise were standing beside the static caravan where they used to live before they came to Severn Sands. Marnie was sitting on John’s shoulders, her fat little baby legs on either side of his face. He was reaching up, holding her hands in his to make sure she would not fall. Marnie loved this picture, because in it Denise was laughing – really laughing. Her head was tipped back and her lips were stretched wide and she seemed completely happy.

Marnie did not remember her mother being so carefree ever.

The photograph had been taken before the night when Mr deVillars’ car broke down on the dark road outside the farm, the night that had become so significant to the Morahans. John used to say that it was fate dealing him a good hand, that car breaking down where it did but Denise hadn’t thought so.

* * *

Father, daughter and granddaughter ate their supper at the table on plates John had warmed in the oven, watching the television at the same time. Marnie observed her father throughout the meal, studying his face for signs of tension when the news came on, waiting to see his reactions. The police had confirmed that the remains they’d found were those of Alice Lang. There was a report about Mr and Mrs Lang coming to pay their respects. John was quietly reflective, giving nothing away. When they had finished eating, Marnie took the dishes through to the kitchen to wash up, while John and Lucy cleared the table to play cards.

Marnie had put the photograph she’d found in her father’s old bedroom at the back of the safe drawer in her own kitchen dresser, next to the box that contained her mother’s locket, and the collection of hairbands and other small gifts that Alice had given her.

She hadn’t yet decided what to do about it. She could ask her father about the photograph directly; confront him with it, but the thought made her queasy. Angharad Jones had reassured her that John had never behaved inappropriately towards Alice Lang, but Angharad didn’t know about the photograph. And John had gone out the evening Alice disappeared. He’d gone somewhere. And he’d been behaving oddly all day.