It was the most likely reason Scott could think of for her targeting him. The only truly bad thing he’d done in his life was being so blinded he’d not anticipated his wife’s suicide.

Is that really the only thing?

Tess had moved from the house near the park to a one-bedroom flat on the other side of Weston-super-Mare, overlooking the seaside. It was a bright day, the promenade full of dog walkers and pedestrians. Scott looked at a happy older couple, walking hand in hand, and felt a pang in his chest. He’d often imagined he and Natalie walking in much the same way. Once they’d laid all their problems to rest.

His face was still sore from when Casey had turned feral. He glanced at himself in the rear-view mirror, hardly recognising his reflection. He looked beaten, like he was ready to quit.

Climbing from the car, he walked across the street and pressed down on her flat’s buzzer, muttering a silent thanks to Gary for getting the address.

A minute later, Tess Foster’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Uh, hello?”

“Hello, Tess. My name is Scott. We spoke on the phone a few days ago.”

“I don’t know anybody called Scott.”

“We talked about my wife and her…” He cringed. “And her girlfriend.”

“She shouted at me.”

“That’s right.”

“And you are?”

“My name’s Scott. I was Natalie’s husband. Can I come in?”

A pause, and then she said, “No, I don’t think I’d like that at all.”

“Would you mind coming out here for a second? I promise I won’t take up much of your time. I’d like to show you a couple of photos.”

“This is really rather irregular.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Give me a moment.”

Scott paced up and down the path, drawing a few odd looks from the passers-by.

The door opened halfway, Tess Foster peering around the edge. From the conversation on the phone, he’d imagined a dishevelled woman, her hair in disarray, her clothing as scattered as her thoughts. But she was neat, with combed grey hair and a clean cardigan.

“Yes?” she said. “This is rather irregular.”

Scott wondered if she knew she’d repeated herself. He shouldn’t be here, bothering this woman.

“You said my wife and her girlfriend shouted at you, back when you lived near–”

“I remember it very well. I’ll never forget it. I was so disgusted with how she spoke to me.”

“Would you please let me show you some photos? I’m trying to figure out who this other woman was.”

“Why?” She opened the door the rest of the way, standing up straighter, suddenly not seeming so meek. Perversely, Scott’s first instinct was to flinch away as she stepped forward. “It’s a fair question. Shouldn’t you be talking to your wife about this?”

“She killed herself. I’m trying to piece together why.”

“Oh, how awful. I’m sorry.”

Scott didn’t mention he’d told her this before. “Will you, please? It won’t take long.”

She huffed. “Fine. But remember it was dark. And only one of them shouted at me.”