The front door was locked. Martin would have to knock to be allowed in. Lloyd brushed his palm against Susan’s cheek. Her skin was cold to the touch, but her face melted into a smile as she placed her hand over his.

‘We’re fine,’ she said. ‘Now go. Please. I’ll see you next weekend. He’ll be away then.’

‘I love you,’ he said, to seal the deal. The gratitude in her eyes was pitiful as they filled up with tears again.

‘I love you too,’ she said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue before turning away.

As Martin knocked on the front door, Lloyd headed out the back. It had been a struggle, leaving under a cloud of accusations, and he knew who was to blame. But Susan was on his side. He’d shut Martin up soon enough.

Lloyd snapped out of the memory as the Ward woman and her stepdaughter came out of the house wrapped up in coats, hats and scarves. They were deep in animated conversation, but it was too far away for him to hear. He watched the woman start the car, reversing out of their yard before taking the road ahead. Today, she was smiling. It unnerved him, as she had nothing to smile about. As for Morgan . . . how could he mistake a clueless kid like her for Grace?

As their car rolled past, Lloyd started his Land Rover and pulled out from the cover of the thickets on the side road. He followed at a distance, in low gear. The Ward woman was ahead of him, driving at twenty miles an hour as she negotiated the icy roads.

Pity she wasn’t so sensible when it came to her choice of house, he thought.

He followed as she took the turning towards the village before dropping Morgan off outside his wife’s coffee shop. He was about to park up when Naomi pulled away from the kerb. Already, she was dumping her stepdaughter, despite her ordeal the night before. A sneer crested on his lips. This was a kid unwanted by her mother and nothing but a nuisance to the woman who had brought her here.

Lloyd stared at the car contemptuously.

On she drove, half a mile up the road, pulling up at one of the few B&Bs in the village. Nighbrook didn’t have a hotel. Visitors weren’t welcome here. But Lisa Stevens was obstinate, taking in waifs and strays for fifty pounds a night. Tourists rarely made a return visit.

He ground his back teeth together as he watched the Ward woman walk in. He knew exactly who was staying there. The same woman who visited every year on this day. Petunia Doyle, Susan’s older sister.