I wouldn’t mind watching you. That thought, unbidden, got smacked back down into the secret depths where it belonged. Daniel suited the fitness look, and a man holding a baby while dressed in running shorts and a hoody seemed somehow extra appealing. But that would be a mixed-up, complicated place to head towards, even if I hadn’t just come out of a relationship. Or was hiding my secret, shameful identity. Or was on the run from a vengeful stalker.

I took Hope from him, busying myself with kissing her fluffy head and saying hello while he disappeared down the stairs.

Later that morning, I remembered that I’d been meaning to ask Daniel about the bees.

‘Is the orchard still part of the farm, or did it get sold off with the rest?’ I asked as he tried to coax Hope into eating her toast rather than squash it into her ear.

‘Yeah. We still have the orchard, and the meadow on the far side that borders the river. But it’s fallen fallow the past few years, if I’m honest.’ He gave up with Hope’s breakfast, shoving the last jammy soldier into his own mouth instead. ‘Ziva does a bit of pruning, stops the weeds from taking over, but leaving it to run wild has been great for her bees.’

‘Is she there a lot?’

‘She comes most weeks, depending on the time of year. More often in the busier bee season. It’s only a twenty-minute walk from the edge of Ferrington, where she lives. In the quieter times, like now, that’s when she does a bit of gardening. It’s an excuse to get away from the village for a while. She’s been retired six years but still can’t walk down Old Main Street without several people asking her to have a quick look at their rash, or diagnose their cousin’s cat.’

‘I bet the orchard’s beautiful in spring.’

Daniel smiled, lifting Hope out of her chair and glancing around for her coat. ‘And in the late summer, when the trees are in fruit. And the autumn, of course.’

‘I’m sorry I won’t be here to see it.’

‘Well, that’s totally up to you,’ Daniel shrugged, grabbing his keys and Hope’s bag as he prepared to take her to his mum, Billie’s. ‘I’ve said you can stay here as long as you like. Would be a shame to miss the leaves changing colour.’ He threw me a glance then that sent a prickle of electricity zipping up my spine. Did Daniel want me to stay? That look suggested that if he did, it might be as more than a cleaner, cook and babysitter.

‘Charlie would have loved you to have seen it,’ he added, voice softening. And at the same time as I realised that of course that warmth in his eyes was for Charlie, an accompanying shard of guilt and misery wedged itself firmly in my windpipe, preventing me from replying.