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‘Not at all. Truly. I consider myself a good judge of character, and whatever Tom might be, he’s not that.’

‘Quite a shy lad, really.’

He wasn’t shy, Fleur thought, but she didn’t want to explain it was Tom’s way to be restrained, to listen more than he spoke. ‘I just can’t understand it. There’s no explanation, so I don’t know what happened for him to just leave, especially in such a wounded condition.’

‘Well, whatever you wrote in that note, love, it obviously tipped him over the edge.’

Fleur felt a flash of alarm. ‘Note?’

‘The one we sent upstairs to him this morning. None of my business, of course, but we thought it was strange that you’d send a lad into the pub with a letter. But then I thought perhaps it’s romantic. I used to do that sort of thing when I was young too.’

‘But I didn’t send anything.’ Fleur frowned. ‘You said a lad brought it in?’

‘Yes, just a kid. I was the person closest. He gave me the letter and said it was for the person on the front. We sent it up to Mr Catchlove immediately.’

‘And then he left?’

‘About twenty minutes later. Thanked us, paid his bill and walked out.’

‘It wasn’t from me.’

‘Really? I did ask and he said a woman gave it to him. Had Appleby’s on the back.’

‘Why would I ask someone to deliver a note when I had just been with Tom and was planning to return later today?’ It was a rhetorical question, but the woman answered all the same with an edge of indignance in her voice.

‘Search me, love. It’s not our business.’

‘No. I’m sorry. Please forgive my tone – I’m upset. My father has passed on, as you know, and this has been an awful few hours.’

‘Nothing to forgive. I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your young man. We thought he was nice fella.’

‘I think I’m going to need a room later today. Are you able to accommodate me, please?’

‘No worries, love. Easily fixed.’

Fleur was glad she didn’t enquire further. ‘I’ll be up in a couple of hours. Perhaps I can have Tom’s old room.’

‘Fine. See you then.’

After bathing, re-dressing and packing a small suitcase, Fleur took a final look around her bedroom. She flicked off the light and closed the door slowly and deliberately, as though shutting off an era. She wanted to step into her father’s room, to smell his presence, but she could hear Irma moving around in there and she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing Fleur in such a private emotional moment. Perhaps when she returned to pick up the rest of her things, she might snare the chance to be alone upstairs.

‘I’m leaving now, Irma.’

Fleur heard footsteps and the door was opened. ‘Oh, good.’ Irma sounded genuinely delighted.

‘I’ll leave the keys to the mortuary on the telephone table.’

‘And that final body?’

‘The funeral is tomorrow,’ Fleur replied. ‘I’ve got the coffin in the cool room. You don’t have to worry about any of it. Robbie will collect it once we know the time. I’ll need to make some final arrangements for the family, but I can do that from elsewhere.’

‘Fine. Make sure you leave the keys to the chapel. I shall be changing all the locks,’ Irma warned.

‘No need, I have no keys.’

‘Even so. Well, good luck, Fleur.’

‘I’m honest enough to say that I don’t wish you the same. I know what you’ve done, Irma, but I can’t change the outcome.’