‘It’s too soon to be having another village meeting,’ he grumbled, his voice gravelly.

‘Meeting? You mean I read Wuthering Heights for nothin’?’

Lloyd offered him a half-smile. The only thing Bambridge read these days was the menu. He had put on a hefty amount of weight in the years since the Harper family’s disappearance. He’d changed. They all had. They had forged bonds that others could not begin to comprehend. And now the burden had passed down to their children. But would they be as willing to protect Nighbrook? They needed to move on, and the only way was to begin to accept people into their community. He watched Reverend Humphries sidle in and unclip Bonnie from her lead. She made her way to the fireplace, her tail lolling from side to side. Life had not been easy for the vicar since his wife died – raising Dawn on his own and having the village secret to reconcile with his faith. No wonder the man was nearly bald. Lloyd watched him dither and apologise as he shifted to the front of the gathering.

Joanne cleared her throat as the last of the select band of villagers filtered in, tea and cookies in hand. ‘Thanks everyone for coming, a hundred per cent turn out again,’ she said, a hint of pride in her voice as she untied her apron from her waist.

‘We need to ease our foot off the throttle,’ Lloyd said, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘Monthly meetings are enough, unless something happens.’ He could have told Joanne in private, but a little bit of public remonstration kept her in her place. Excited by the newcomers, she had called the meeting without his approval. The Harper business took up enough of his time as it was.

‘But we’ve had an update,’ Joanne said, looking put out at being publicly reprimanded.

Turning to Dawn, Joanne gave her the nod to speak. The young girl stepped forward, her fingers wrapped around her coffee cup.

‘I made friends with Morgan Ward,’ she said. ‘She told me her stepmother only bought the house because she’s interested in the Harpers.’

A ripple of murmurs spread throughout the room at the news.

Lloyd raised his hands to quieten them. ‘All right folks, simmer down. It’s a famous case,’ he said.

‘I spoke to Naomi, her stepmother, in the café today too,’ Joanne piped up. ‘She was asking questions about the Harpers.’

Lloyd’s face was stony. ‘They were bound to find out one way or another. We expected this.’

He knew he was wavering. Decisions did not come easily when he had nothing but a cup of tea to drive his thoughts. His gaze fell on the drinks cabinet. The one that Joanne kept locked.

‘She’s married to a movie producer. Do I need to point out the obvious?’ Joanne directed her question to the neighbours.