Ella too had let her down. She had changed her phone number and would only speak to Faith via a solicitor. Faith suspected it was married life that had changed her. It was a shame because they had had such a close relationship, but if ties had to be cut, it would be on Faith’s terms. Thanks to the generosity of the public, she had made an offer to buy Ella’s share of the property, based on a reduced valuation, naturally. She awaited her response with anticipation.

Standing up to stretch her spine, Faith put the past behind her and gazed out of the window. The sun had broken free of the line of conifers that weren’t as tall as they had been the week before. Mr Newton had sent his gardener over to trim them free of charge. He was a lovely man and had supported Faith at a time when others had waited expectantly for her to fall. She hadn’t realised how lonely he had been since his wife died. Whatever else lay ahead for Faith, she would repay his kindness.

Acknowledgements

I should probably start with an apology to Hale Village for allowing my fictional characters to invade your community and take over your village hall: I hope my scene setting has done some justice to this little haven tucked in between the suburbs of Halton and Merseyside. I live only a short drive away from Hale and made many visits during the writing of this book, and I’d like to say a big thank you to the ladies I met at the village hall for allowing me to disturb their coffee morning. You were all so welcoming and friendly, and it was obvious that you love your village very much.

Thank you to my old workmates who I meet regularly at The Railway in Liverpool – to Julie Parry, Dave Holden, Ian Rogers, and Mike Thorpe – particularly Ian, who lives in Hale and gave me the idea for basing my latest novel there, and to Mike, who insisted Eastham got a mention. On the subject of Eastham, I would also like to thank my lovely friend Karen Sutton and her granddaughter, Jasmine, for giving me a personal tour of Eastham Country Park.

I am forever grateful to my sister Lynn Jones, her husband Mick and their group of friends, most especially Julie Lynn, for taking me under their wing one New Year’s Eve during a short break to Wales only weeks after my son, Nathan, had died. ‘I Predict A Riot,’ was the song you chose to mark the end of what had been a tough year for me and my daughter, and I hope you don’t mind me stealing what has become your anthem for this book.