They shared a joint bank account too, into which Helen paid money each month out of whatever profits there were from the bookshop. It was used for groceries and paying for the household bills. She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and signed into her banking app..

The joint account was empty too.

Hugh had transferred the last few hundred pounds from it as recently as last night.

Helen sat heavily in the desk chair. Her foot kicked out, catching the handle of the bottom drawer of his desk, the one that was usually locked. It flew open. Inside the drawer were more photos underneath an almost empty bottle of whiskey.

She picked up the top photo. There were other faces in this one – wide smiles, posing for the camera, innocent until you looked closely at what they were doing.

A night that was forever imprinted on her brain, no matter how hard she had tried to forget.

*

Lydia was out of breath. Halfway into the village where she had arranged to meet Diana, she had the feeling that she was being followed. A creeping sensation on her skin, like tiny ants crawling over the back of her neck.

Diana had asked to meet her outside the bookshop. Lydia was carrying the bag with everything Diana had asked for, the weight of it swinging against her hip as she walked quickly. The air was crisp, the smell of the sea very strong. Seagulls swooped and cried out, like they were telling her to turn back, warning her that this couldn’t end well.

She saw movement behind her reflected in the window as she passed the post office. She recognised that coat, that hair. Mills was following her. She took out her mobile, messaged Diana that there was a change of plan and told her to meet her on the coastal path by the gate instead.

Then she ran, looped in and out of the side streets, criss-crossed and danced between buildings, her feet slapping the cobblestones until she was sure she had lost Mills.

Her heart racing, she looped back around to the coastal path and made her way carefully along the sandy track to the bench overlooking the cliff. She dropped the bag on the seat next to her and smoothed her hair, tightened her ponytail and took a moment to catch her breath, her hungry eyes watching out for Diana.

And there she was. Her beautiful auburn hair flowing out behind her in the wind, her eyes smoky and dark with eyeliner, thin legs that stretched on forever. A broad smile cut Lydia’s face in two and she jumped up and ran over to Diana, threw her arms around her.

“Woah! Not here. Anyone can see us,” Diana said and pushed her away. Lydia felt a stab of hurt, cutting deep, but swallowed it down.