‘Do axe murderers knock?’ Grace whispered. They looked at one another and burst into nervous laughter.

As Grace turned again to the window, trying to get a better look, the man glanced across, staring straight at her.

She stepped backwards in shock. It was the man from the pub, she was sure of it. And now she had seen his face, her memories shifted, forming an old picture. She had opened the same door to him twelve months earlier. She could still remember how her hands had trembled as she let him inside.

‘It’s okay,’ she told Annabel. ‘I recognise him.’ She headed through the hallway and opened the door.

The man on the step was short and thick-set, his face red from the cold, his eyes watering in the wind.

‘Now then, Grace.’

‘It’s Niall, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’ He looked pleased that she remembered. ‘Can I come in for a minute and have a word?’

Grace turned to see Annabel brandishing an umbrella, as though ready to use it as a weapon. Her stance jolted Niall into understanding.

‘I’m sorry, love.’ He ran a hand over his face. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I was caught unawares when I saw you at the pub. I couldn’t place you right away, but when I realised who you were I reckoned I’d better come up and see you.’ He held out a hand to Annabel. ‘Constable Edwards, call me Niall.’

He was much smaller than Grace remembered, but perhaps the uniform he’d worn when they’d first met had made him more of a presence. His eyes were the same, though – extending an unspoken compassion that Grace found as unbearable now as she had done a year ago. In his presence it was impossible to pretend that nothing was wrong.

She realised they were waiting for her to speak. ‘Come in,’ she said, and stepped back to let him through. ‘Annabel, this is the policeman who came round first on the night Adam disappeared.’

Niall waved away Annabel’s offer of a drink. He sat on the edge of his chair, his hands clasped between his knees. ‘How’s your little lass doing?’

‘She’s fine,’ Grace replied. ‘She’s asleep upstairs.’

‘That’s good.’ He looked pleased. ‘I’ve often thought about you two, you know. I have to say I didn’t think I’d see you back round these parts.’

Grace stiffened. ‘There are things that need sorting out. I want to tie up the loose ends, so Millie and I can move on with our lives.’

‘Well, that’s fair enough. I kept an eye on the investigation, and I don’t think much has changed …?’

‘No.’ Grace looked into her wine glass, swirled the liquid and took a large sip. ‘I haven’t heard from the police recently.’

Niall’s sigh was sympathetic. ‘It happens, I’m afraid, when there are no new leads, and new cases coming up all the time. Everyone scurrying about, overworked and under-paid. Did you have a Family Liaison Officer?’

‘Yes – Ken Barton.’

‘Have you told him you’re back?’

Grace shook her head. ‘No. Should I?’

‘Wouldn’t hurt. But listen, I won’t keep you.’ He got to his feet, then fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘Have you got a pen handy?’

Grace found one for him. He scribbled on the paper. ‘If I can be of any help to you, while you’re here …’ She looked at the mobile number scrawled on the scrap he’d handed to her.

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ve two lasses of my own, and I’ve always found it hard to believe that your husband just ran off that night, leaving your bairn on the step like he did.’

Grace’s jaw felt tight as she replied, ‘I don’t think we’ll ever know what really happened. But now that a whole year has come and gone without a word, I’m trying to accept it. I’m only here to sort out the cottage.’

Niall nodded. ‘Well, I’ll leave you be then.’ He turned for the door.

After they had seen him out, Annabel considered her for a while, then said, ‘Are you going to tell me?’

Grace frowned at her. ‘What?’

‘Come on, Grace, something is bothering you. Spit it out.’

‘It’s nothing.’ Grace ran a finger round the rim of her glass.

‘Well why don’t you explain, and then I can decide that for myself.’

Grace looked squarely at Annabel. ‘It’s just – I keep thinking about the day before Adam disappeared. He was out for a few hours. He said he was going to watch the Arsenal match at the pub in Ockton, and do some Christmas shopping afterwards. But then, while I was in France I heard Dad grumbling about how many games Arsenal had at the end of the season, because of all the ones cancelled for bad weather around Christmas. I went on the internet – and the game had been cancelled that day.’

‘Right. So …?’ Annabel looked uncertain.

‘Well, it means I don’t know where he was.’

‘Perhaps he went shopping.’

‘He didn’t come home with any bags. There was nothing on our credit card. I never found any presents hidden away.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?’

‘Dad convinced me it was nothing – said he probably watched another match instead. I rang Ken Barton as well, but he sounded as sceptical as Dad. There was a big local derby on that day, apparently, which went ahead, and all the pubs would have been showing it.’

‘But you’re not sure?’

‘I don’t know. They might be right. But seeing Niall reminded me of it, that’s all.’

They sat in silence for a while, drinking their wine.

‘Perhaps mention it again when you next speak to Ken Barton,’ Annabel suggested.

‘I will,’ Grace agreed, but doubted she’d be taken seriously. Anyway, her dad was probably right. It wasn’t relevant. Except she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was.

Annabel left early the next morning, keen to avoid the Sunday afternoon tailbacks on the long journey to London. Soon after she had gone, heavy rain had begun to pound the windows, and so far showed no signs of slowing. When Millie was settled for her lunchtime nap, Grace sat down in an armchair and began to reflect on everything that had happened since she’d returned. Gradually, the fizzing of her mind abated, and she fell into a half-slumber.

She was woken abruptly by a loud knocking. For a moment she was confused, before she remembered that it would be Ben, calling about the renovations.

‘Hello,’ he said as she opened the door, taking down a large black umbrella. Bess sat next to him, droplets shimmering at the tips of her wet, clumpy fur, her tail wagging. ‘Can I leave Bess here?’

‘Of course.’

Ben led the dog underneath the porch. Bess shook herself, water spraying off her coat, then lay down as Ben said, ‘Stay.’

‘Come in.’ As Grace stepped back she wondered if it were in fact a good idea to let him in, after what she’d witnessed in the pub.

‘So, what are you planning for this place?’ he asked as he followed her through to the kitchen.

Grace pulled out Mike Muir’s papers, and a few rough sketchings of her own. ‘These are really basic,’ she said as she gave them to him, half-embarrassed by her simple designs. But Ben sat down and began studying them carefully.

‘Ah, I see what you’re thinking. Knock out this wall,’ he banged the wall next to him, ‘and you’ve got a nice cosy area. And sort out the bathroom upstairs so it’s en suite. This looks like a good plan.’ He glanced up. ‘Want me to do some proper drawings for this, and then figure out the best way to go about it?’

Grace had gone across to the kettle. ‘Well, we’d better talk money before we get too much further. I’ve only begun thinking about this recently, and I need some idea of how much it would cost.’

Ben folded his arms and looked down at the sketches for a while without saying anything. ‘I’ll tell you what – let me do the plans for nothing, and we’ll figure it out from there.’