‘I’m not sure they have a moral code.’ I frown as I study this Phil Mason. He’s of average height, younger than James, and like many people around here, wealthy, judging from the winter tan and neatly styled hair, the cut of his coat, his polished shoes. After a brief exchange with James, Mason walks away. ‘Poor James. It makes you wonder how much pain one person can bear.’

‘He isn’t the only person who’s lost someone.’ Della’s eyes drift towards Stephanie, standing a few feet behind him. ‘I hope it isn’t much longer before we find out what happened to Hollie. The police are treating her death as suspicious, aren’t they?’

‘All I know is they’re carrying out a post-mortem. I suppose we have to wait and see what that shows.’ I glance at my watch, glad to have an excuse to get away. ‘I should go. I’m working this afternoon. I’ll catch you another time.’ Kissing her on the cheek, I start looking for Niamh, finding her with Mia. ‘I’m sorry, Niamh – I have to go home and get ready for work. I check in at one. Do you want to walk back with me?’

‘Can I go to Mia’s?’ Niamh looks at me anxiously.

‘Of course – if that’s OK with your mother, Mia?’ I’m grateful not to be leaving her alone. She and Mia aren’t particularly close, but right now, Niamh needs company.

Mia nods. ‘She did say it would be OK. I asked her on the way here.’

‘OK …’ I glance at Niamh. ‘I’ll call your father – he can text you to arrange a time to pick you up.’

*

Three hours later, I’m sitting on my crew seat as the aircraft takes off for Nice. Thankfully, the short flight is unadventurous, the passengers undemanding, and for the few hours in the calm of the half-empty cabin, Hollie’s death seems far away. In the south of France, the sky is blue and we open the aircraft door to warm air and French accents, but as I drive home after the return flight, and turn into the village, it comes flooding back.

Andrew’s car is in the drive. After I park and go inside, the sound of the television filters through from the sitting room. I slip off my shoes and am on my way upstairs to look for Niamh when I hear Andrew’s voice.

‘For God’s sake, you know I can’t.’ His voice is scathing as he talks on his phone, seemingly unaware I’ve just come in.

‘She won’t say anything.’ There’s a silence before he laughs cynically. ‘How do I know? For Christ’s sake, I’m married to her. Of course I know!’