‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Sorry, Eddie.’

A short while later Sadie crept back into the bedroom and retrieved the Beretta from the wardrobe, unsure as to what she was going to do with it. Throw it in the sea? But that was risky. What if the tide brought it straight back in again? But she couldn’t bear to keep it any longer than she had to. Perhaps she could dump it in a bin in town. But that was chancy too. She had no idea of where Mona had got the gun or whether it could be traced back to her.

Sadie put the weapon in her bag, slipped on her coat and then scribbled a quick note to Joel. Couldn’t sleep. Have gone for walk before work. See you later. S x As she left the house, she glanced to the left and the right, as edgy as a fugitive. The gun, although it was only small, felt heavy as lead in her bag.

27

The morning seemed to drag on for ever. Sadie tried to concentrate as she stood at the counter, placing the books into bags and smiling blandly at the customers. From the moment she had arrived at work, she’d been aware of an atmosphere. Her colleagues had all heard about what had happened but seemed uncertain as to what to say or how to react. In her absence, she had obviously been the subject of gossip. Had Sadie Wise murdered her husband? Had she lost her rag, picked up a kitchen knife and stuck it into his chest?

Their curious eyes were constantly on her, their gaze following her every move. She was suddenly different, altered, tainted with suspicion. Unsure as to what to believe, they shot her quick glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. She had not worked there long enough – it had only been six months – for them to trust her implicitly. No smoke without fire, they were probably thinking, and to some extent they were right. It might not be of the crime they suspected, but she was still guilty.

At lunchtime, eager to avoid any awkward questions, Sadie collected her coat and bag and headed for the beach. On the way she stopped at a sandwich bar and picked up a ham roll and an apple. The mist had lifted and a thin gleam of sunshine was breaking through the clouds. Despite the cold, she chose a bench, sat down and gazed out at the sea. It was calmer today, the grey waves rolling gently against the shore. Above her a noisy flock of gulls circled and swooped and dived towards the water.

Sadie was halfway through lunch when a man sat down beside her. She glanced over, her heart sinking. It was Peter Royston, the reporter from the local paper.

‘Hello there,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Fancy bumping into you. Small world, eh?’

Not that small, she thought, undeceived by his friendly manner and wondering if he had followed her from the bookshop. Her gut instinct was to get up and walk away, but she forced herself to stay put. Such a response was likely to make him more interested in her rather than less. She gave a thin smile. ‘Hi.’

‘Nice to see the sun for a change.’

‘Yes,’ she replied shortly.

Royston shifted his bulk on the bench, making the old weathered wood creak a little. He lifted a hand to sweep back a long skinny strand of hair that had come adrift from his balding pate and was flapping about in the wind. ‘On your own today, then?’

Sadie, who had no desire to engage in conversation, simply gave a nod.

‘Has your friend gone back home?’

Thinking of Mona, Sadie instantly flinched and then tried to cover it up by feigning a shiver and playing with the collar of her coat. ‘Yes,’ she said again.

‘I must say, I enjoyed the Hunters’ party. They certainly know how to put on a good spread. And your friend – Anne, was it? – yes, she was a fascinating girl. Have you known each other long?’

Sadie began stuffing the remains of her sandwich and the half-eaten apple back into the brown paper bag, making it clear that she was about to leave. ‘Sorry to rush off, Mr Royston, but I really have to get back to work.’

‘Peter, please. And actually, I was wondering if I could have a quick word.’

‘I don’t want to be late.’

Royston, ignoring the comment, sat back, stretched out his legs and gazed towards the horizon. ‘You see, I’ve been giving it some thought, this whole tragic business with your husband, and I thought you might like to put your side of the story.’

‘And what side would that be?’ she retorted sharply.

‘Well, you did see Eddie shortly before he was murdered. And now that you’re no longer a suspect…’ He paused, glanced slyly at her and asked, ‘You’re not a suspect, are you?’

‘You’d have to ask the police about that.’

‘You see, our readers like a good human-interest story, something they can relate to. I mean, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and that can happen to anyone. Why don’t you let me put your side of the story? If we could just —’

‘No,’ she said firmly. Sadie could imagine the sort of article he was likely to write, nothing libellous of course, but full of sly suggestions and innuendo.

‘Perhaps you’d like to think about it.’

‘There’s nothing to think about.’

‘Only it would give you the opportunity to clear your name, to lay all those suspicions to rest. That’s the problem with a small town like this, word gets around and before you know it —’

‘There’s nothing to tell. If people are talking, that’s their problem not mine.’

‘So that would be a “No comment”, then?’

Sadie glared at him. Despite the cold, his face was covered in a light sheen of sweat. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth.’

‘I’m only trying to establish the facts.’

‘Really? Only that’s not what it sounds like to me. To be honest, Mr Royston, I just want to be left alone. That’s not too much to ask, is it?’

Royston lifted his plump shoulders in a shrug. As he rose to his feet he took a business card from his pocket and offered it to her. ‘In case you change your mind.’

‘I won’t,’ she said, ignoring his outstretched hand.

He laid it on the bench beside her. ‘You can call me any time.’

Sadie turned her face away and gazed along the front as he walked away. It wasn’t smart to make an enemy of Royston but the man was loathsome. He dealt in other people’s misery and didn’t give a toss about the pain he caused. And what had Mona said to him at the party? Something, perhaps, to arouse his suspicion: a hint, a clue as to what had really happened to Eddie. She had no way of knowing what had passed between the two of them.

She didn’t touch the card and after a while the wind caught it, whipped it off the bench and sent it dancing along the promenade. She watched it flick and turn until it came to rest against the base of the low wall. ‘Good riddance,’ she murmured, but the words were only an act of bravado. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, she now had to add Peter Royston to the list.

Sadie made her way back to the bookshop and for the rest of the afternoon she tried to keep her mind on her job. And yet it seemed like God was mocking her. Every book that was passed over the counter served as a reminder of her wrongdoing. Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Postmortem, Killing Orders, Dead Man’s Ransom. She rang up the sales and, with slightly shaky fingers, slipped the novels into carrier bags.

It was a relief when she was finally able to leave at a quarter past five. As she headed for home, she kept her eyes peeled for good places to dump the gun, but didn’t spot anywhere suitable. Again and again, she looked over her shoulder, worried now that Royston might be tailing her.

The town was busy but Sadie felt utterly alone as she tramped back to Buckingham Road. Whenever she saw a woman with dark hair, she jumped, thinking it was Mona. She prayed that the girl had gone back to London. But what if she hadn’t? And what if Royston tracked her down, trying to get the inside story?