As she’d fully intended, one pint became two, then three. Partway through her fourth, Sara and Aidan had made their excuses and gone home. Dexter, perceptive as always, had hung around, sensing this wasn’t an ordinary evening in the life of Caroline Hills. She’d asked about his life growing up in Leicester, but hadn’t yet volunteered many details about herself.

‘Have you never wanted to live anywhere else?’ she asked.

‘Sometimes. I can see the appeal of getting out of the city, definitely. But it’s where my friends are. My roots. Plus it’s too bloody expensive to live anywhere else.’

Caroline smiled. ‘Everything seems cheap to me, compared to London. That’s a city I was more than happy to get out of.’

‘And now,’ he said, chinking his glass against hers, ‘we just have to get the city out of you.’ After a few drinks, Caroline had to agree. ‘So why were you so keen to leave? Just had enough of it?’ he asked.

She sighed. ‘Yeah, sort of. Lots of things going on at once. Mark’s dad and brother both died within the past two years. Cancer. Josh had trouble with bullies at school. I was sick of dealing with knife murders, gangs and drugs. I came to realise it wasn’t the sort of place I wanted to bring my kids up in. I didn’t want them around London anymore, and I didn’t particularly want myself around there either. One thing led to another, I started looking around and heard about the vacancy here.’

‘Why Rutland?’

‘Honestly? Because I’d never heard of it. We googled it and it looked nice, so we came to look at some houses. Bought the first one we looked at.’

‘Blimey. You must’ve been keen to get out.’

Caroline shrugged. ‘Maybe so. Life’s a learning curve, eh? You staying for one last drink?’

Dexter looked at his empty glass, then back at Caroline. ‘Yeah, go on then. Coke again, please. One last one. Then I’ve really got to go.’

She stood up, picked up the empty glasses and started to walk to the bar. And that was when she spotted Patrick Walsh.

17

Patrick Walsh looked exactly as he had in the photos, except clearly a few years older. He looked as though he’d tried to keep fit since retiring from professional rugby, but even he was unable to stop the barrage of passing time.

‘It’s Patrick, isn’t it?’ Caroline said, feeling far more confident and outgoing thanks to the alcohol.

‘It is indeed. And to what do I owe the pleasure?’ Walsh replied, evidently used to women talking to him in bars.

‘I’m Caroline. I recognised you and wanted to say hi.’

‘Ah. Tigers fan?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, stoic on the outside but laughing inwardly to herself. ‘Huge fan. Lifelong.’