The childish gossip that had swirled around her when she had left fizzled out over the years once the village grapevine had grown bored, so she kept her head down and focused on her baby girl, in the process setting up a respectable bookshop, complete with children’s story time every afternoon at 3 p.m. and a sensible monthly book club pick.

Hugh was the icing on her respectable cake. If anything could well and truly bury her past for good, it was quietly marrying an unassuming, well-respected history teacher at the registry office.

If he could love her, then she must be ok.

And it had been quiet ever since. Settled. Safe. The community had accepted her; she was a familiar face in the square; her shop was well loved by the locals; and no one was any the wiser about what had gone on before.

Until now.

But now even Hugh wasn’t what he seemed, apparently.

She flipped onto her front and swam back to the side. Her towel was draped across a lounger and she wrapped herself in it like a cocoon, breathing in the scent of the fabric softener. She dried quickly before reaching for her bathrobe.

But before she could, her arms were pinned to her sides as someone grabbed her roughly from behind, forcing the air from her lungs.

*

Matt lay in bed, his face turned to the wall. Diana was airing him, leaving his messages unread, even though her Stories said she was on her way to college already. She’d posted herself saying hello to a Shetland pony in a field before she headed into the village. He knew the pony. Lydia had ridden him when she was younger and fancied having a pony. Helen had encouraged his dad to let her have riding lessons and look after the ponies before investing in one for herself. She had lasted a few weeks until they realised that even just the smell of horses and hay on her clothes had made his dad sneeze and his eyes stream with allergies.

Lydia had been devastated, but had kept it to herself as always. He had heard her crying through the bedroom walls though, could see how the light had dimmed behind her eyes just a little bit.

He hadn’t said anything. He struggled to relate her, to relate to anyone since his mother had left. She was the only one that really got him.

He rolled over and was blinded by a beam of sunlight shining through a gap in his curtains. The dust danced in the glare, tiny little pieces of dead skin flinging themselves around in a last-ditch attempt to find where they belonged.

He dragged himself to sitting, looked at the clock and thought about lying down again. He had missed his early class, so there was no point in going in at all today. But his full bladder forced him into the bathroom.