The why of that fear was what he couldn’t cope with in the aftermath of all the revelations and the deaths. The why of that fear led directly to the heart of who and what he was, of who and what he had been for years. Solitary not out of choice. Solitary not out of necessity. Solitary not out of inclination. The sad truth was that he and his sister had long been, in fact, much the same sort of people. It was only the manner in which they’d muddled through their lives that was different.

Understanding this at the end of days and days upon horseback on the Forest was what finally prompted Robbie to go to Cadnam. He went at midafternoon, with the hope that Meredith might be alone at her parents’ home at that time of day so he could speak to her without anyone being there.

This was not to be. Her mother was in. So was Cammie. They answered the door together.

He’d not seen Janet Powell in ages, he realised. In the early years of the girls’ friendship, he and Meredith’s mother had met now and again when the act of fetching Meredith and Jemima from this place or that had been called for. But he’d not seen the woman once the girls had each been old enough to have a driving licence, which put an end to the adults in their lives having to ferry them here and there. He recognised her, though.

He said by way of introduction, “Missus Powell. Afternoon. I’m-”

“Well, hullo, Robert,” she broke in kindly. “What a nice surprise it is to see you. Do come in.”

He didn’t know quite how to react to the welcome. What he thought was, Well, of course, she would remember him. He had a rather unforgettable face.

He’d worn his baseball cap as was his habit, but he removed this as he stepped into the house. He glanced at Cammie as he tucked the cap into the back pocket of his jeans. She dodged at once behind her grandmother’s legs, and she peered out at him with rounded eyes. He offered the little girl a smile. He said, “’Spect Cammie doesn’t remember me, eh? Been donkey’s years since I’ve seen her. Must’ve been only two years old last time. Maybe less. She won’t know who I am.”

“Bit shy with strangers, she is.” Janet Powell put her hand on Cammie’s shoulder and drew her forward, cuddling her to her hip. “This’s Mr. Hastings, luv,” she said. “You say hullo to Mr. Hastings.”

“It’s Rob,” he said. “Or Robbie. Want to shake a hand here, Cammie?”

She shook her head, and she took a step backward. “Gran…,” she said. She hid her face in her grandmother’s skirt.

“Ah, it’s no matter,” Robbie said. He added with a wink, “Present something of a sight, I do, this toothy old face, eh?” But the wink was forced and he saw that Janet Powell knew this.

She said, “You come right in, Robbie. I’ve a lemon cake in the kitchen that’s begging to be eaten. Will you?”

“Oh, ta, but no. I was on my way to…Actually, I just come to…I was hoping Meredith was…” He drew in a calming breath. It was the fact that the little girl was hiding and he knew she was hiding because of him. He didn’t know how to put her at ease, and he wanted to do so. He said to Mrs. Powell, “I was wondering if Meredith…?”

“Of course,” Janet Powell said. “You’ve come to check on Meredith, haven’t you. Terrible thing. To think I had that young woman here in the house for a night. She might have…well, you know…” She cast a glance at Cammie. “She could have m-u-r-d-e-r-e-d us all in our beds. Meredith’s just in the garden with the dog. Cammie, luv, will you take this nice gentleman out to see Mummy?”

Cammie scratched one ankle with the toes of her other bare foot. She seemed to hesitate. She kept her gaze on the floor. When her grandmother said her name again, the little girl murmured, “Mummy’s been in hospital.”

“Aye,” Robbie said. “That I know. It’s why I’ve come. To say hullo and to see how she’s feeling. Bet you were a bit worried about her, weren’t you.”

Cammie nodded. She said to the floor, “That dog’s taking care of her, though.” And then looking up, “Hospitals’re like where the hedgehogs go.”

“Really?” Robbie said. “You like hedgehogs, do you, Cammie?”

“They got a hospital for them. Gran told me. She said we c’n go there an’ see them.”

“I ’spect they’ll like that, the hedgehogs.”

“She says not yet, though. She says when I’m older. Cos we’re meant to spend the night when we go. Cos it’s far.”

“Right. That makes sense. I ’spect she wants to make sure you don’t miss your mum if you spend the night,” Rob said.

Cammie frowned and looked away. “How’d you know that?” she asked.

“The bit about missing your mum?” And when she nodded, “I had a little sister once.”

“Like me?” she asked.

“Just like you,” he said.

That appeared to put her at ease. She stepped away from her grandmother and said to him quietly, “We got to go through the kitchen to get to the garden. The dog might bark, but she’s quite nice.” And she took him outside.

Meredith was sitting on a lounge chair in the only shade there was, on the far side of a garden shed. The rest of the area was given over to rose bushes, and they filled the air with a fragrance so intense that Robbie imagined he could feel it move like a silk scarf against his skin.

“Mummy,” Cammie called as she led him along a gravel path. “Are you still resting like you’re meant to? Are you asleep? Cos there’s someone to see you.”

Meredith wasn’t asleep. She had been drawing, Robbie saw. She had a large sketch pad spread on her knees and she’d used coloured pencils upon it. She’d created squares of patterns, he saw. Fabric designs, he reckoned. She still held on to her original dream. At the side of the lounge chair lay Gordon Jossie’s dog. Tess raised her head, then lowered it to her paws. Her tail swished twice on the ground in greeting.

Meredith closed her sketch pad and set it to one side. She said, “Why, hullo, Rob.” And as Cammie made to climb into her lap, she said, “Not yet, darling. Still a bit too much for me,” but she moved to one side and patted the seat.

Cammie managed to squeeze in next to her, squirming round to make her little bottom fit the space. Meredith smiled, rolled her eyes at Robbie, but kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “She was worried,” she said in explanation, nodding at the little girl. “I’ve never been in hospital before, far as she’s concerned. Didn’t know what to think.”

He wondered what Meredith’s daughter had been told about what had happened to her mother on Gordon Jossie’s holding that day. Very little, he expected. She didn’t need to know.

He said, with a nod at the golden retriever, “How’d you come by her?”

“I asked Mum to fetch her. It seemed like…poor thing. I couldn’t bear the thought…you know.”

“Aye. Good for you, that, Merry.” He looked round and spied a wooden folding chair leaning against the garden shed. He said to Meredith, “Mind if I…?” with a gesture towards it.

She said, colouring, “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. Do sit. Don’t know what I was…Only, it’s quite nice to see you, Rob. I’m glad you’ve come. They told me at the hospital you’d phoned.”

“I wanted to see were you coping,” he said.

“Oh, I was that.” She touched her fingers to the bandage on her neck, doubtless a much smaller one than what she’d had wrapping her wound originally. The gesture seemed an unconscious one to him, but it was apparently not because she said with a humourless laugh, “Well, I’ll look like Frankenstein’s wife when this comes off, I s’pose.”

“Who’s that?” Cammie asked her.

“Frankenstein’s wife? Just someone from a story,” Meredith said.

“Means she’ll have a bit of a scar,” Robbie told her. “It’ll give her distinction, that will.”

“What’s distinction?”

“Something making one person look different from everyone else,” Robbie said.

“Oh,” Cammie said. “Like you. You look different. I never saw anyone looks like you.”

“Cammie!” Meredith cried, aghast. Her hand went down automatically to cover her daughter’s mouth.