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‘I’m incredibly grateful and surprised. I’ll pour the tea.’

Back in the sitting room, Fleur regarded Claire, again humming quietly to Alfie, who was wrapped in his baby blanket, with a gentle gaze and the realisation that as grief-stricken as she felt over losing her father, nothing could come close to losing a child. It was helping her find perspective on her own bereavement.

‘Here we are, darling,’ Jamie offered gently. ‘Fleur here thinks you need a sweet cup of tea in you.’

Claire smiled affectionately at her husband. ‘Thanks, Jamie, but I can’t,’ she said. ‘Not holding Alfie.’

‘Oh, here, let me,’ Fleur said. ‘May I hold Alfie for you?’

Claire looked unsure but Jamie nodded, urging her to accept the offer. She handed the still bundle into Fleur’s arms.

‘Ah, there now, I’ve got him,’ Fleur said softly. ‘Hello again, darling Alfie,’ she murmured. ‘Aren’t you handsome?’

She wasn’t lying. Alfie looked as though he were simply sleeping, a perfect-looking baby captured on canvas by a painter. Fleur looked up at Claire, who was smiling as she wept. The tears were good; she’d seen this before with mothers in shock. Once the tears arrived, it meant they were beginning to let themselves accept, or at least understand, that their child had died.

‘He really was such a good baby,’ Claire said, the tears flowing freely now. ‘You met him on a bad day.’

And there it was. Another hurdle behind them. Once a mother began to speak in past tense about their baby, another enormous step had been taken towards letting go. Fleur knew now that she would be able to leave with Alfie soon.

25

No one but Tom could know just how much effort it took to arrive at Coglin’s Carpentry, but he also knew he was not leaving there empty-handed.

Jimmy Coglin was sanding down a coffin in the yard when Tom limped through the gate. Jimmy glanced over, realised who it was and straightened, flinging down his sandpaper that was curled around a block of timber. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Catchlove?’

‘I’ve come to make you an offer.’

Jimmy’s gaze narrowed and his eyes hooded with lack of understanding. His lips stuck out when he made this gesture, adding to Tom’s notion that he was dealing with a man of very low wit. ‘What sort of offer?’

An older man approached before Tom could respond. ‘Who’s this, then? Bloody hell, mate, hope the other guy looks worse.’

Tom blinked but only his undamaged eye obliged. ‘No, he doesn’t. He brought his mates to hold me down.’

‘Bloody coward,’ the older bloke remarked and Tom simply nodded, letting his good eye find Jimmy’s newly embarrassed gaze.

‘I’m Tom Catchlove,’ he said, offering his uninjured arm to the older man.

The fellow frowned as though it should be familiar. ‘Bert Coglin.’

‘You own this business?’

‘I do, son. But if you’re looking for work, you’re no good to me all beat up.’

‘He’s not looking for work, Dad,’ Jimmy growled, cutting a fierce grimace at his father.

‘What are you here for then?’

‘I just told your son I’d like to make him an offer. It will keep him out of the clutch of the police.’

‘You what?’ Bert took a step forward. ‘What’s this?’

‘Leave it, Dad,’ Jimmy said.

‘I won’t leave it, though,’ Tom said. ‘If you don’t want me pressing charges, Jimmy, you have to come clean.’

‘I’m not admitting to beating you up,’ Jimmy snarled.

‘You did this?’ His father gawped. ‘You stupid idiot. And I suppose you took your two numbskull sidekicks with you?’