juddered with excitement. Sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, hanging on to its lead, was Maddy Harvey’s mother.

‘Isn’t he wonderful?’ cried Estelle. ‘His name’s Norris!’

Norris the bulldog. ‘He’s gross,’ Kate declared. ‘And I thought you said there was no one here.’

She avoided looking at Marcella as she said it, but was acutely aware of the bright glare of sunlight on her own unmade-up face.

‘Darling, I just meant that Barbara had gone. Marcella isn’t a visitor, she’s part of the family.’

Family, indeed. Kate bit her tongue; now she knew her mother was officially losing it.

‘Hello, Kate, it’s been a long time,’ Marcella said easily. Raising herself from her chair she said,

‘Now why don’t I take a good look at you, then that’ll be the awkwardness put behind us.’

‘Good idea,’ said Estelle. ‘I’ll take Norris, shall I?’

Take Norris and drown him in a bucket preferably, thought Kate, scarcely able to believe that she was standing there like a statue in a bloody art gallery, allowing Marcella Harvey to walk round her studying her face from all angles. How Estelle could possibly think this was a good idea was beyond her.

The woman was hired to clean their house, for crying out loud.

‘Well,’ Marcella said finally, ‘I haven’t run screaming from the room. It’s only a bit of scarring, when all’s said and done.’

Only a bit of scarring. Kate could have slapped her.

‘You were lucky not to lose that eye,’ Marcella observed. Catching the mutinous look on Kate’s face, she smiled and said, ‘OK, I know, there’s nothing more annoying than being told to count your blessings. But all I’m saying is, it doesn’t change who you are.’

Of course it does, you stupid old witch, it changes everything.

‘ Not unless you let it change you,’ Marcella went on, ‘and it’d be a real shame if you did that.

You’re still a pretty girl, you know.’ Kate flinched as Marcella reached out and gently stroked her face, first one side then the other. ‘Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth bothering with.’

Appalled, Kate realised that quite suddenly she was on the verge of tears; Marcella’s gentle fingers and matter-of-fact tone had got to her. She was talking absolute rubbish, of course, but at least it made a change from the endless sympathy.

She wondered if Maddy had told Marcella about the incident in the pub, and guessed that she hadn’t. Marcella’s loyalty to her own family was legendary. Giving herself a mental shake, Kate said,

‘So what’s the dog doing here anyway?’

‘He’s Barbara’s dog,’ Estelle proudly explained. ‘She rang me yesterday in a terrible state. They’re all off to Australia in a few days and they’d arranged for Norris to be looked afterby a neighbour, but the neighbour’s broken her hip and all the boarding kennels are booked up, so I said why didn’t we have him here with us?’

Kate could think of lots of reasons, not least that Norris was diabolically ugly, as fat as a pig and – on the current evidence – a champion drooler. If there was a national saliva shortage, they could donate Norris to the cause.

‘It’s only for six weeks,’ Estelle chattered on, ‘and he’s such a poppet, he has a lovely nature.

You’ll be able to take him for lots of long walks, darling ... it’ll do both of you the world of good. To be honest, Barbara spoils him rotten and he doesn’t get nearly enough exercise. I thought we could put him on a bit of a diet while he’s with us, work out a fitness regime—’

‘I don’t need to lose weight.’ Kate was stung by her mother’s comment that it would do her the world of good.

‘Darling, I know you don’t. But you can’t spend all your time in bed, you should be out in the fresh air, and taking Norris for a walk would be such a nice way of meeting people.’

‘I don’t want to meet people.’

‘But you must! Sweetheart, you’re twenty-six,’ Estelle pleaded, ‘you can’t hide away like a hermit.

Anyway, it was Marcella’s idea, and I think she’s absolutely right. Since they got Bean, they can’t imagine life without her. And Norris is here now; we can’t kick him out into the street, can we?’ Bending down and cupping Norris’s lugubrious face in her hands she cooed, ‘Eh? Of course we wouldn’t do that, because you’re beautiful, aren’t you?’

The world had gone mad. Her mother had never shown the remotest interest in dogs before and now look at her, crawling around on the floor making goo-goo noises like some besotted new mother.

Was this what happened when you hit the menopause? ‘Well, I’d better make a start on those windows,’ said Marcella.

About bloody time too. But Kate couldn’t help covertly watching as Marcella crossed to the utility room, took a yellow bucket out from under the sink and began to fill it with water and a dash of Fairy. She was wearing lime-green cotton Capri pants, a raspberry-pink shirt knotted at the waist, and orange flip-flops. Her skin was the colour of Maltesers, her black hair tied back with a glittery pink scrunchie. Marcella had to be in her early forties, but she possessed an enviable figure. As she vigorously swirled the Fairy Liquid around in the water, her high bottom jiggled like a 25-year-old’s. And her waist was tiny, Kate noted. Unlike Estelle, who had been letting herself go lately and could do with shifting a couple of stone.

‘Don’t drink it, you daft animal,’ Marcella gently chided as Norris investigated the contents of the bucket with snuffly, snorty interest. That was something else about Marcella: she had a beguiling voice, warm and husky with that hint of a Newcastle accent betraying her upbringing on Tyneside.

‘He’s thirsty. I’ll get him a bowl of water,’ said Estelle. ‘And we’re going to need some cans of food for him. Sweetheart, why don’t you have a shower and get dressed, then you could pop down to the shop and pick some up.’

Kate sighed; this whole charade was nothing more than a conspiracy to get her out of the house.

‘Can’t you do it?’

‘I have to hold the ladder while Marcella’s doing the high-up bits. Otherwise she might fall off.’ Estelle grinned. ‘And then who’d clean the windows?’

Shooting a look of hatred at Norris, Kate moved towards the door.

‘Actually, could you do me a favour?’ said Marcella. ‘When you see Jake, tell him to take the lamb chops out of the freezer. If he spreads them out on a plate they’ll defrost in a couple of hours. And remind him that Sophie has to be at the village hall by five o’clock for Charlotte’s birthday party.’

Could the day get any worse? Kate gritted her teeth; the very last thing she needed was to be forced to speak to Maddy Harvey’s brother. With barely concealed irritation she said, ‘Why don’t you just ring him?’

‘Because to get to the store you have to go right past Jake’s workshop. It’s sunny, so he’ll be sitting outside. Anyway,’ Marcella concluded with a dazzling smile, ‘why add to your parents’ phone bill when it’s not necessary?’

Oh, for crying out loud, thought Kate, increasingly tempted to literally cry out loud. My father’s a multimillionaire, a phone call costs less than ten pence, what are you talking about, woman?

But Marcella, armed with her brimming bucket and a whole host of window-cleaning paraphernalia, had already left the room.

Of course, Marcella had more than likely done it on purpose.

This thought struck Kate as she made her way down Gypsy Lane with Norris ambling along at her heels. It was by this time one o’clock; showering, washing her hair, dressing then carefully applying enough make-up to minimise the horror of the scarred side of her face had taken fifty minutes. The irony of this ritual didn’t escape her; once upon a time she had been a strikingly attractive girl and make-up had made her breathtakingly gorgeous. These days it was a tool necessary to prevent small children screaming with fright at the sight of her.

So long as it didn’t melt in this heat.

Thinking dark thoughts about Marcella, Kate rounded a bend and was brought up by the sight of the flowers on the verge opposite, a sudden profusion of poppies, ox-eye daisies and dog roses marking the spot where April Harvey had been killed. Marcella had planted them herself, shortly after the accident.

Each time she walked up the lane to Dauncey House, she passed them and was reminded afresh of April’ s death.

Although flowers or no flowers, she was hardly likely to forget it.

Kate paused to gaze at the flowers, remembering April with her funny, wobbly gait, slurred speech and lopsided smile. To her shame, she also remembered the way she and her friends from Ridgelow Hall had made fun of April whenever they saw her, mimicking her mannerisms and comical way of speaking.

At least, they had when the rest of April’s family weren’t around. Anyone caught making fun of her would have been swiftly and efficiently dealt with by either Maddy or Jake.

It was deeply embarrassing to recall now, but she had been only young at the time. Making fun of people because they weren’t perfect was what children did. It had never occurred to her that one day she might not be perfect herself.

Bored with waiting, Norris strained at his lead. Slowly Kate made her way on down the dappled, tree-lined lane. As they rounded the final bend, where Gypsy Lane joined the town’s broader Main Street, she saw Snow Cottage ahead of her on the right and beyond it the row of craft shops and galleries set back from the road, where metal-workers and artists and ceramicists produced and displayed their wares for visiting tourists.

And there was Jake Harvey, as Marcella had predicted, sitting outside his own workshop, chatting animatedly to an old woman while she examined one of his bespoke caskets.