After that, he had gone to the bar stores and taken a bottle of vodka – knowing Angharad would kill him when she found out – and then, holding the bottle by its neck, he had walked towards the park’s exit and crossed the road, scrambling down the grassy slope to the estuary. He had sat in the hollow beside the path that led down to the rocky shingle, which was euphemistically known as the beach, although it was submerged that evening beneath a high tide, waves splashing against the shore.

He had waited and waited but Alice hadn’t come. Will believed she hadn’t come because of Guy. He’d imagined Guy turning up at the caravan with flowers, wine, maybe other gifts: proper jewellery, not the silver trinkets that had been all Will could afford. He had tormented himself imagining the two of them together in the caravan’s tiny living area, sitting on two sides of the table, talking, Alice, nervous, tucking her hair behind her ear, fidgeting. And then he imagined a sudden silence, a glance, and Guy leaning forward, taking Alice’s hand, and she leaning her mouth towards his, their lips meeting in a kiss. And then? Then she’d stand and take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. He pictured her sitting on the edge of the low bed, her cheeks flushed, her eyes full of promise, and holding up her arms so Guy could pull the scarlet dress off over her head; the warm smell of her skin. He had imagined her letting herself fall back onto the bed, and Guy, seeing how lovely she was, unbuckling his belt, stepping forward to join her. Will had imagined all manner of things and now he hated himself for that, because now it seemed far more likely that Guy had tried to seduce Alice, and she’d rejected him, and that was why she was dead. The thought of her brave fidelity was more painful to him even than the thought of her betrayal.

There was only one tiny problem with this line of thought, one contradiction. If it was Guy who had killed Alice and buried her body, then why sell the land for development at the first opportunity, knowing the bones might be discovered?

Could Guy have considered it a risk worth taking? Or could it be a double bluff? Guy, knowing forensic evidence would have been lost in the years that Alice’s remains were underground, deliberately orchestrating a situation in which they would be found to put himself out of the picture?

Will took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts, looking for Emily, the journalist who had accompanied him to the publishing party by the river. He called and she answered, cautiously.

‘Hey, stranger, this is a surprise.’

‘A nice surprise?’

‘Don’t push it, Will.’