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catastrophic,’ she said. ‘No one could have known there was a time bomb ticking inside his head, but I do wonder if there were signs. Jason changed in those last few months. I couldn’t do right for doing wrong but we got through last Christmas, and by February, he seemed like his old self. The night before was just an average Tuesday evening at home watching TV, eating pizza and going to bed.’

      April didn’t mention the sex, but it had been intense, followed by leftover pizza and slower, more languorous sex until they had fallen asleep utterly and completely sated.

      ‘I’m pretty sure I woke up with a smile on my face,’ she continued as she closed her eyes and recalled how she had felt that morning. There had been a sense of relief that they were back on track. Whatever had been wrong between them had been fixed.

      As the scene played out in her mind, her blood ran cold.

      Justine leant in. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ she whispered.

      A sob escaped, but April swallowed the next one back. ‘I keep going back over our life together and challenging everything. All the things I should have said, or should have asked but didn’t. I want to know what Jason was thinking. I need to know. There are so many questions. I want … I want …’

      Justine patted April’s back as she gasped for air. ‘Maybe that’s enough for one night.’

      Through vision blurred with tears, April looked to Tara, who asked, ‘Is that OK with you, April? Do you want to stop there?’

      No, thought April. I want to tell you how I spend most nights going through pages and pages of phone bills, emails, and bank account statements as if I’m reading a book that’s been carefully edited so as not to reveal the final twist. If an undetected bleed on the brain hadn’t caused Jason’s change in behaviour, April wanted to know what – or who, had? She didn’t think the group could give her an answer, but she might feel better for asking it. Unfortunately, the only sound she could utter was another sob as someone passed her a tissue.

      ‘In that case,’ Tara continued, ‘thank you all for coming, and if there are any cupcakes left in the foyer, please take them home.’

      ‘And before you leave,’ Justine said, raising her voice above the scrape of chair legs, ‘if there’s anyone who hasn’t paid the deposit for the Christmas do, can I have it as soon as?’

      Everyone was up on their feet, but rather than heading for the exit, they gravitated towards April and Nick.

      ‘If you’re in need of a stiff drink,’ Steve said to April, ‘a few of us are going over to The Childe of Hale for a quick one.’

      ‘I’d better not, I’m driving,’ she replied as Jodie approached and wrapped her in a bear hug.

      ‘It will get better, although I can’t promise the tears will dry up anytime soon,’ she said.

      ‘I can vouch for that on Jodie’s behalf,’ added Steve.

      Jodie poked him in the ribs. ‘For that you can buy the first round.’

      As the group thinned out, Nick approached April and he too gave her a hug. ‘We can do this,’ he whispered.

      Nick was slow to pull away and for a split second April had an irrational fear that he was going to cup her cheek in one of his broad hands as Jason had once done. She turned her head quickly.

      ‘You both did really well and I hope you’ll be back next month,’ said Justine, laying a hand on each of their arms to give a gentle squeeze. ‘And it would be lovely to see you at the Christmas party too. I know it’s only September, but it’s a dinner-dance and these things need to be booked early.’

      ‘Sure, how much is it?’ asked Nick, slipping a hand into his jacket pocket.

      ‘We’re asking for a £40 contribution and the rest will be made up from our end-of-year surplus,’ Justine said. Glancing at April, she added, ‘We’re very careful about how we manage member subscriptions and we don’t like to build up too much in reserves. Can we tempt you too?’

      ‘I’m not sure. I haven’t been planning that far ahead,’ April stuttered. She had so far declined any and all plans for Christmas and New Year. Knowing how she might feel three months from now was an impossible task.

      ‘There’s no rush,’ Tara said, coming to her rescue. ‘If you want to decide nearer the time, I’m sure we can sneak you in.’

      Justine’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t overrule Tara. She took the money Nick handed over and said, ‘Come with me and I’ll sort out a receipt.’

      ‘No, it’s fine. I trust you.’

      ‘Honestly, I insist,’ Justine replied, taking his arm and pulling him away.

      Nick looked back over his shoulder at April. ‘See you next time.’

      Tara waited until the smile April had returned to Nick began to fade. ‘You don’t have to wait until next month if you need to talk sooner. Ring me anytime. That’s an order.’

      The invitation was almost too much, and April came close to blurting out all those thoughts and feelings she hadn’t managed to share with the group. She needed someone like Tara in her life.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but you might regret the offer. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty messed up.’

      Tara smiled. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ she said in a hushed voice, ‘we all are.’

       3

      Once the last of the lunchtime customers had been served, Tara shut up the shop. She closed early on Wednesday afternoons and would normally use the time to make up cake orders, but she had other plans today and had already sent her deputy manager, Michelle, home early. Molly, Tara’s ten-year-old daughter, was still in school, and Iain was home in Widnes, decluttering the house while eight-year-old Lily was out of the way. Tara would need to have a pre-move clear-out too, but with the limited space available in the flat upstairs, she had learnt a long time ago to be ruthless with keepsakes. Even so, it would be a wrench for both families to step away from the past, and as Tara enjoyed a rare moment of calm, she stopped to appreciate where she was and how far she had come.

      Tee’s Cakes had the feel of a Parisian patisserie, with a high counter running along one side of the shop to display intricately crafted cakes and tarts, and a line of padded booths on the opposite side for customers to sip their coffee and whisper secrets. Additional seating could be set up outside, weather-permitting, and the kitchen in the back was state-of-the-art to meet the demands of daily visitors and a thriving online business. Mike wouldn’t recognise the place.

      He had originally opened the shop as a traditional café serving English breakfasts and sandwiches to both the locals and returning visitors who had stumbled upon the village and discovered its secrets. Hale was an often overlooked settlement on the edges of the Mersey, and boasted two pubs, a church, and a post office. It had a rich history that stretched back to Roman times, with several points of interest including a nature reserve at Pickering’s Pasture and a lighthouse at Hale Head, and no visit was complete without a trip to St Mary’s church and the grave of John Middleton, better known as the Childe of Hale. The history of the village’s four-hundred-year-old resident, who had reportedly measured nine feet four inches tall, was well known. Sadly, few would stop to remember Michael Thomas Price, who had been dead just eight years.

      Tara had known Mike as a friend, a boss, and briefly as a flatmate before they realised there was a spark between them that couldn’t be contained. Tara had grown up in Hale and, after coming top of her class at catering college, she had turned up at Mike’s café one day looking for a job. Her plan was to save enough money to move to Paris where she intended to perfect her craft, but it wasn’t long before Tara had created a successful sideline for Mike by selling her cakes.

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