‘Yes, Patricia made a big point of telling me about that,’ said Judith, and George looked concerned. ‘Oh, don’t worry. No offence, Dad, but I don’t think she’s that bothered. She went out with the rat-catcher last week.’

‘Rat-catcher?’

‘You remember Norman Protheroe from Pickard Road? He’s the pest-control fella. But we’ve always called him the rat-catcher. He seems all right, to be fair.’ And she and George shared a smile.

‘I had thought,’ said George, ‘that Cleo and I wouldn’t be allowed to marry in church, due to my being divorced. But because my marriage to your mother was not in this country, the Church of Cyprus does not recognize it!’

‘Convenient prejudice!’ said Judith.

‘Yes. Exactly.’ He paused for a moment. ‘There’s one other thing,’ he said cautiously.

‘Go on,’ Judith urged him.

‘Well, I’ve decided to give your mother the house. I’m not going to make her sell it to give me my share.’

‘What?’ she said, a little too loudly. ‘Why can’t you make her buy you out?’

‘Judi-moo,’ he said, stroking her hand, ‘we all know that’s impossible with what she earns. And if I insisted on selling it, where would she live? And how would she manage? No, for all her faults, for all she’s done and for all the insults she still throws my way, I feel I owe it to her as some compensation for agreeing to the divorce.’

‘Well, you’ve got a kinder heart than most, Dad, that’s for sure.’

George smiled. ‘Your mother isn’t all bad, you know.’

Judith held her tongue.

They arrived back at the house shortly afterwards, and as they pulled into the yard at the front of the smallholding Sofia came running out to greet them, wiping her hands on her apron and looking very excited. She said something in Greek to George, who turned to Judith and translated. ‘Apparently, we have a visitor!’

Judith thought maybe it was Cleo’s brother, come to make amends – or to make trouble. Walking through the door, her eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness after being outside in the sunshine. But eventually she could see him.

‘Gareth,’ she whispered.

‘Alrigh’ mate?’ he replied, grinning. ‘Decided I needed a holiday, after all.’

27

Gareth

The trip to Cyprus had been a mad, spur-of-the-moment decision. He had intended spending his week pottering at home, enjoying his time off and tinkering with the bike. But hearing Our Tune had thrown a different spanner in the works. And all his plans for a laid-back, chilled-out week at the flat had turned into something very unexpected indeed. He’d gone out on his bike, speeding along the A470 as it snaked through the Brecon hills. It was the only way for him to clear his head.

More than four months had passed since the fight with the Irish guy, and more than four months since he’d seen or spoken to Lana. Disturbingly quickly, he’d grown accustomed to her not being in his life. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about her. It’s just that when he did, he felt nothing. So much so that he wondered if he’d been under some hypnotic spell all along, and the real Lana was the one he saw on that awful night in February. The hurt he’d felt then, and the humiliation, were so overwhelming that he’d spent the following week in a complete daze. How could he have been so stupid? So duped?