“I know.”

“Listen, all right… I do know something. But I don’t want you coming back here. You can’t go around knocking on people’s doors at all times of the day just because you feel like it.”

Scott suddenly wanted to apologise to Mikey Hutton, who he’d scolded last week in almost this exact same manner. She had it right down to the subtle disgust, just enough to make him feel like a total arse. “Yeah, I get that.”

She shook her head, looking down at the tea towel in her hand. Big man Scott gets what he wants when he wants.

“When we first moved in,” the lady said, “the estate agent explained about the park. She said it was quiet most of the time. That was a lie, let me tell you. But anyway… she mentioned the names. She said she could arrange to have them removed, since it’s technically on our wall. It don’t bother me. It’s on the other side. But I guess some people complained before, when she was showing them the house and the park and that. Mental. I don’t understand it. But she said it, and then, guess what…”

Scott waited.

“She tried to charge me. Can you believe that? If I wanted it removed!”

The lady laughed. Scott laughed with her, glad the big dog had stopped growling.

“I never saw her. Your wife, I mean. We only moved in a year ago. But the estate agent did. She made a joke about it.”

“What joke?”

“Listen, I don’t want anything to do with it. It’s none of my business. I need to get on with dinner.”

“Please just give me something. Please.”

“I don’t–”

“I found her. I found Natalie. That was my wife’s name.” Big man Scott going to cry. “I was the one who found her in the garage. And it’ll never leave me. I’ll never forget it.”

“Why not just leave it alone?” the woman said; there was something sad, and a little hateful in her eyes.

“Because you obviously have something to say.”

“I know what the estate agent said. This is none of my business.”

“Can you at least give me the name of the estate agent? Please?”

The woman stared at him for a long time. Bailey started grumbling again. Beyond the dog, a TV was playing, a newscaster explaining something about the economy. It seemed so normal, messy, full of life.

“It’s Royal Lettings, in town. The lady’s name was Rachel. I remember because we used to call her Rachel Royal. Like a Royale with cheese. You seen that one?”

“Uh, I think so.”

She shut the door and Scott walked back down the path, the woman’s words ricocheting around his mind. Whatever the estate agent had said, it had clearly been something about his wife. Sitting in his car, he thought about God, thought about the love he’d felt in his early years, with Dad, Mum and him in church, the atmosphere of it, the optimism, like he was being filled with light.