‘But it did.’

‘We didn’t touch each other until Christmas, I swear.’

‘That’s hardly a comfort,’ April said. ‘You might have been going through a rough patch, Bree, but stupid me, I thought my relationship with Jason was solid – until you kicked the foundations from under us.’

‘It shouldn’t have happened, but it was over as soon as it started.’

‘Obviously. He died.’

‘No, before then.’

April’s face twisted into a sneer. Jason’s last secret afternoon off had been less than a week before his death. ‘If there was any justice in the world, it should have been you waking up next to his dead body, not me.’

‘Please, don’t,’ begged Bree.

‘How could you both do that to me?’

‘I wish I had an answer. Maybe that first kiss all those years ago was unfinished business,’ she said, closing her eyes briefly. ‘Things hadn’t been allowed to run their course, and I was left wondering if it had meant anything to Jason. I can tell you now that it hadn’t.’ Seeing April flinch, she added, ‘If you want to hate someone, hate me. I made the first move, but I promise you, it was Jason who made the last. When he realised what he’d risked, he was crushed. You were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.’

‘Who says it was his choice? Didn’t I have a say in whether I wanted to take him back? Doesn’t Callum have a say?’

Bree spun around to face her. ‘April, I swear, it was the biggest mistake of my life. Callum and I had a bit of a wobble, but we’re making a go of it now.’

‘He told me. Should you be drinking so much if you’re trying for a baby?’

Bree put down the glass. ‘What do you want? What can I do to make this right?’

It was a question that April had been asking herself for weeks, and she was hoping the answer would become apparent now, but inspiration failed to strike. Bree was a poor substitution for the person who should be answering her questions, and April hated her for not being Jason. She hated her. Anger flared and she felt the weight of the stone in her hand. Before she could stop herself, she pulled back her arm and threw the missile at Bree. The bitch caught it.

‘I never want to speak to you again,’ April said. ‘Don’t try to contact me, and if our paths have to cross at work, don’t expect anything beyond professional courtesy.’

‘And Callum?’

‘That’s for your conscience, not mine.’