Ella looked down at the sleeve of a dark suit reaching out from the open neck of a bin bag. She prodded it with her shoe. ‘I’m sorry, but I hate to see you pining away for Dad. You deserve better,’ she said, her voice softening. ‘You know, moving to Spain might not be such a bad idea. Isn’t it time for a fresh start?’

Faith considered her response, knowing it would be reported back word for word. Amongst Rosemary’s many grievances was the terms of Derek’s will, which had seen the lion’s share of his estate left to Faith. What had they expected when Ella had effectively divorced her father in sympathy with her mother? The answer was obvious. They were waiting for a nice little handout should Faith sell up and move away. This was why Ella had been sent over. This was always why.

‘If I do move, you’ll be the first to know.’

‘So you are thinking about it? Is that why you’re emptying the rooms?’

Faith winced before she could disguise her feelings. She had expensive taste and in the last four years, money had been slipping through her fingers at an alarming rate. She had tried to cut back, going as far as taking a two-week cruise this year instead of the usual four, but it wasn’t enough, and the proceeds from the sale of furniture was no more than a stopgap. Not that she’d ever admit as much to Ella or anyone else for that matter.

‘Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ve missed lunch and I’m ravenous,’ Faith said. ‘I saw my friend Tara the other day and she sent me home with the most delicious cake.’

‘I care about you, Faith,’ Ella said, not easily distracted. ‘You’re still young. You need to move on.’

‘Thank you for your concern,’ Faith replied, ‘but your efforts would be better spent helping Rosemary to move on. I’m happy where I am and as far as I’m concerned, the only way I’ll be leaving here is in a box.’

As Faith approached the village hall, she caught a glimpse through the window of Steve and a couple of the others rearranging the chairs for their meeting. The foyer meanwhile was devoid of life, although someone had been busy setting out mugs on the trestle table and there was a tower of pre-packaged muffins sitting next to them. Following the sound of a running tap, she found Justine in the kitchen: undoubtedly the culprit responsible for the supermarket fare.

‘Evening.’

‘Oh, hi, Faith,’ Justine said, her ponytail flicking like a horse’s tail as she turned. ‘Tara’s running late, I’m afraid, so I offered to come in early. Thankfully, my mum’s a godsend when it comes to childminding.’