Warning: Episode may contain strong language, violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

PREVIOUSLY…

• Jack uncovered the truth that Lee was cheating on him but hadn’t yet discovered with whom.
• Kate overheard her husband, Tom, telling someone on the phone he loved them, unaware he was talking to Lee.
• Charlotte was summoned to Ashbourne House by her brother, James, for an urgent meeting.
• Julia hired a private investigator to dig up dirt on Emma.
• Natalie discovered that Neha and James had a one-night-stand.
• Having paid Natalie’s blackmail demand of £100,000, Judith was unhappy when Natalie requested an additional £100,000 to maintain her silence about Nick’s biological parents.
• Tony was disappointed when his incarcerated son, Luke, refused him a visiting order.
• Believing she had found evidence that Julia had killed her mother, Natalie began a campaign to destroy Julia’s life.
• Emma was saddened to hear from Julia that Michael Bancroft, her ex-boyfriend, had died in a car accident in 2007.

Bake My Day Bakery,
Glendale

While Lee Campbell finished serving Hilda Hollingsworth, the local busybody with a voice so piercing it could shatter glass, Tom Spencer waited patiently inside the bakery. He had hoped to steal a tender moment away from prying eyes and the chaos of his increasingly erratic thoughts, but his aunt’s sister had thrown a spanner into his plans.

“Thomas,” Hilda greeted in a clipped tone with a polite nod of her head in the farmer’s direction before looking him up and down with a judgemental eye and moving out of the business with a freshly baked wholemeal mini loaf safely tucked away in her wicker basket.

Tom and Lee stood in silence, exchanging charged looks, as they waited for Hilda to exit. They breathed a collective sigh of relief as the door closed.

“Hey,” Tom said warmly with a broad smile as he approached the counter and allowed the tips of his fingers to brush against Lee’s hand.

The intimate gesture sent a bolt of electricity surging through Lee’s body. “Hey,” he replied with a somewhat cold tone. “What can I get for you today?”

Something was off; Tom could sense it. Anxiety and insecurity began to rise within him. “You,” he replied with a mischievous grin and twinkle in his eyes as he stroked an index finger against the back of Lee’s hand. “When is Jack working a nightshift next?”

“Listen, about that.” Lee withdrew his hand, and his body stiffened. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Tom swallowed hard at the serious look that stretched across Lee’s face. “What is it?”

“It’s about Jack. He knows.”

Tom’s blood ran cold. “Knows what?”

Lee sighed heavily. There was no doubt in his mind that he was, in fact, in love with Tom. However, Lee knew that it was a love that could never be. “He knows that I’ve been having an affair,” he clarified. “He doesn’t know who with, but he knows.”

Panic flooded Tom’s system, and his hands trembled uncontrollably as he rubbed at his blonde stubble. The lie that had brought him so much joy and happiness now threatened to destroy his entire world. “How… how does he know?” he stammered as his thoughts spun out of control.

“He saw my phone,” Lee admitted. “He saw that ‘T’ called me and, well, you need to be careful, Tom. Jack’s not stupid; he’s a cop for fuck’s sake, and he’s going to figure it out sooner rather than later.”

The colour drained from Tom’s face as he stared blankly at his lover. He had been reckless, consumed by lust and desire, and now the consequences were closing in around him.

“I’m going to protect you for as long as I can,” Lee smiled, trying to reassure him. “I love you, Tom.”

The sweet declaration went unanswered or acknowledged. Tom felt dizzy. The room spun while a white mist descended over him, and his heart pounded harder and faster with each terrified beat.

“Tom? Are you okay?”

Tom’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t meant to let anyone see how fragile he had become. “I’m fine,” he lied, his voice cracking slightly. “I need to go.”

As he left the bakery, Tom’s mind was in a state of flux. He had been reckless, impulsive, and foolish, and Jack was on a collision course with the truth. It was now only a matter of time until everything fell apart.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Greystone Downs Farm,
Glendale

Kate Spencer stood in the doorway of the barn, her eyes firmly fixed on the newly installed lockbox that was attached to the wall nearby. She had been concerned about her husband’s ever-increasing mood swings, and her intuition sounded alarm bells. Yesterday, she had seen Tom stash something in there, and, given the lie he had so obviously told about talking to his mother on the phone, it was clearly something he didn’t want her to find. Curiosity and anxiety had gnawed at her ever since. With Tom picking up some items from the village, Kate had seized the moment to try and work out just what the hell was going on.

The smell of hay and the faint musk of animals filled the air inside the barn as Kate moved further into the large structure and examined the small keypad that secured the lockbox. She tried several combinations – birthdays, anniversaries, pin numbers – but all to no avail. The lockbox remained steadfastly closed, refusing to offer up the secrets that Tom kept concealed inside.

Frustrated, Kate looked around the barn. Motes of dust danced in the air while at her feet, Buster, the family’s border collie, sat obediently at her side. She smiled at the black and white canine and gave him a loving scratch behind the ears.

“Who’s my good boy?”

With a defeated sigh, Kate returned her attention to the stubborn keypad of the lockbox – the only thing that stood between her and the truth. She had to figure out the combination. She had to know exactly what Tom was hiding.

– G L E N D A L E –

Acorn Cottage,
Glendale

Queenie Baxter sat at the table in the homely kitchen of Acorn Cottage, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, nursing a mug of freshly brewed tea as she read her horoscope in “The Sun” newspaper. The steam, infused with the distinct floral aroma of Earl Grey, twisted into the air, and Queenie licked her finger to turn the page. Heavy footfall from the stairs alerted her to Jack Campbell’s imminent arrival. She had been taken by surprise to find a visibly upset and distressed Jack on her doorstep last night, and Queenie, as a compassionate Pisces, hadn’t hesitated in inviting him to stay. Although the morning was drawing on, she had decided not to open the store and knew that while some in the village would grumble, Jack’s wellbeing was her main priority.

“Mornin’, Lovie,” she said, glancing up at the police sergeant from over her glasses as he moved into the kitchen and slipped into the seat opposite her. “Pots full.” She nodded towards the teapot in the centre of the table. “I can do ya a bacon butty if ya feel up to it.”

Jack smiled, grateful for Queenie’s hospitality after the events of yesterday afternoon. “Morning, Queenie,” he said, taking the empty mug the octogenarian had left our for him and began to fill it from the teapot. “I’m fine, but thanks anyway.”

Queenie knew better than to pester Jack about not eating. “’ow’d ya sleep?”

“Oh, you know, not great,” Jack shrugged and let out a deep exhale of breath that seemed to carry the weight of the world as he returned the teapot to the table. “Thanks for letting me stay. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, and the B&B down on Riverview Lane was full.”

Queenie closed the newspaper and reached across the table, rubbing Jack’s hand with affection as she smiled a somewhat crooked smile. “This is ya home as long as ya need it.”

“I won’t stay long. I know you’ve got Missus Granger moving in in a few weeks and—“

“Nonsense!” Queenie brushed away the sentence as if she were batting away a fly. “Audrey ain’t movin’ in for some time yet an’ even when she does, there’ll always be a room ‘ere for ya. We may not be blood, but yer my Jackie Boy, whether ya like it or not.”

Jack smiled and fought the tears that threatened to pool in his eyes.

Queenie removed her glasses and sat them down on the tabletop before wrapping her arthritic hands around her mug of tea and welcoming the comforting embrace of the sweet liquid. “So wots the plan with Lee then?” she asked with a sniff. “Because if ya ask me, that lad deserves everythin’ that’ ‘e’s got comin’ to ‘im!”

There it was, the question Jack hadn’t wanted to face. The truth was, he didn’t trust his husband anymore. Lee hadn’t offered an explanation as to who “T” was, only to say that it was someone he was having an affair with. The revelation had shattered Jack’s heart and, in the process, ended their nearly decade-long partnership.

“I don’t know, Queenie.” Jack sighed, tracing the rim of his mug with his finger as he avoided her gaze. “But what I do know is that the marriage is over. There’s no coming back from this.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Village Green,
Glendale

The morning air was warming quickly, and as Neha Patel ambled along the winding path with a newly purchased bottle of gin hidden in her bag, she could tell it was going to be an unseasonably hot day.

On Queen Victoria Street, Natalie Sinclair, dressed in a cute flowy floral summer dress, stepped out of CuriosiTEAS with a freshly brewed skinny cappuccino. While her calculating eyes were hidden behind a pair of oversized sunglasses, there was no doubt that she was sizing up Neha like a lion ready to strike.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Neha Patel the village drunk,” she sneered, her voice as sharp as a butcher’s knife as she crossed the crossed the road and moved towards the suspended teacher.

“What do you want, Natalie?”

The young woman smirked, stepping closer until she invaded Neha’s personal space. “I know about you and James,” she said coldly, her words laced with venom and the corners of her mouth turning into a slight smile, almost as if she were enjoying herself. “That little tryst you had in the female toilets of the pub. Disgusting.”

Neha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. How could Natalie possibly know about that? Panic gripped her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied and moved to walk past the manipulative nineteen-year-old and her sharp tongue.

“A liar as well as a drunk and a social pariah,” Natalie replied with delight. “My, my, you really have got a full bingo card.”

Neha looked around the village green, desperately searching for an out. She had never felt more powerless or vulnerable. “What do you want from me?”

“I haven’t quite decided yet. But I am going to enjoy seeing your entire life go up in flames. The whole village already sees you for what you are, Neha, a drunken mess, so you could consider it payback for what you did to poor Poppy Granger.”

Neha bristled at the memory of drunkenly slapping the innocent six-year-old. The incident, although she couldn’t remember it clearly through the haze of alcohol, had been a horrific mistake that had turned the entire village against her and now also threatened to destroy her career.

“But don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’ll think of something, and when I do, you’ll be the first to know.” Natalie leaned in closer and patronisingly tapped her index fingers against the tip of Neha’s nose. “In the meantime, stay away from James,” she demanded, her voice cold and threatening. “And maybe, just maybe, I won’t tell everyone what an absolute disgrace you’ve become.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Precise Investigators,
Garrick Street, London

On the third floor of a narrow Victorian building on Garrick Street in London’s Covent Garden, Julia Harrington-Jones sat nervously in a plush leather chair across from Damon Winters, the private investigator she had hired to investigate Emma Blake. Determined to discover just exactly what she was dealing with when it came to Emma, Julia was hoping for a smoking gun that would enable her to end Emma’s threats of telling Nick the truth about who his parents really were. As she anxiously picked at her perfectly maintained cuticles with the tips of her index fingers, her sparkling azure eyes scanned the small yet professionally presented office. Filing cabinets lined the walls, and the large oak desk was cluttered with paper.

Damon looked like any other average middle-aged man. Slightly overweight, balding, and with glasses perched at the end of his nose, he flipped through a stack of photographs and documents. His expression was unreadable as he selected a few and slid them across the desk towards Julia.

“These are the most important findings from my investigation,” Damon began. “I believe you’ll find them enlightening.”

Julia swallowed hard and reached for the photos. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a heavy drum of anticipation and dread.

The first few photographs showed Emma laughing with Ben Granger over dinner at The Oak & Vine, them kissing on Jubilee Walk and walking hand-in-hand in the village green, as well as a few chance encounters between Emma and Nick during their daily jogs. Nothing in there overly shocked or surprised Julia. However, as she flipped through the stack, more images unfolded before her eyes, and a familiar face stared back at her. Julia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The evidence was damning. “What is this?” she asked breathlessly as she looked back at Damon in disbelief.

“Exactly what it looks like.”

Julia shook her head in disbelief. “It can’t be,” she muttered softly, her eyes returning to the face that had shocked her into a stupor. “It can’t be.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Thyme Cottage,
Glendale

Neha stumbled over the threshold of Thyme Cottage, her feet tangling in the mad rush to get inside and away from prying eyes. She slammed the front door and leaned against it. Her shoulders slumped, and the familiar sense of hot tears began to burn her eyes. The confrontation with Natalie had rattled her, and she felt the foundations of her life beginning to crumble beneath her.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, vibrating against the glass of the gin bottle. In an automatic response, Neha removed it from her handbag and looked at the screen with a heavy frown. She didn’t normally answer calls from unknown numbers, but having been suspended from work due to the incident with Poppy, she now had to consider every call an important one.

“Hello?” She said and pressed the iPhone to her ear. “Yes, this is Neha Patel.”

As Neha listened, her heart sank. The investigation into the incident involving Poppy had concluded, and she had been summoned to a meeting next week to learn her fate. The thought of facing the school officials and the consequences for her heinous actions was too much to bear. Without hesitation, Neha reached into her bag, removed the bottle of gin, and unscrewed the cap. The snap of the bottle opening for the first time brought her a sense of comfort before she took a swig and welcomed the burn as the alcohol moved down her throat.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

Charlotte Sinclair’s footsteps crunched on the gravel driveway as she approached the grand entrance of her ancestral home.

A magnificent stately manor, Ashbourne House loomed before her with its yellow sandstone façade covered in ivy. Intricate stone carvings adorned the archway above the oak front door, and the family’s crest, which was carved into the brick directly above the entrance, took pride of place. The leaded panes of glass in the tall and narrow white sash windows glinted in the light.

With a deep, soothing breath, Charlotte raised her hand and tapped on the heavy oak door. The brass knocker, shaped like a lion’s head, was an exact replica of the one at 10 Downing Street.

As she waited, Charlotte glanced around the courtyard, where a stone fountain gurgled softly and the meticulously maintained garden beds full of blooming roses, dahlias, and shrubbery stretched into the distance.

The front door opened, and Charlotte spun around to see her brother, James Harrington-Jones. “Summoned to the castle,” she joked, immediately noticing the tense look on James’ face. “This must be serious.”

He stepped aside and motioned for his sister to come inside. “Lottie, I think you’d better come in. We’ve got a problem.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Precise Investigators,
Garrick Street, London

“That isn’t all,” Damon continued, his voice breaking through Julia’s shock. He handed her a folder filled with printed emails, social media messages, and text transcripts. “These communications were recovered from Emma’s phone records. They date back a couple of years.”

Julia’s hands trembled slightly as she opened the folder, and her eyes scanned the messages. Flirtatious exchanges, salacious texts, and late-night calls laid bare a clandestine relationship. Julia returned her attention to the face in the photo. There, staring back at her, was her brother-in-law, Paul Halifax. Photo after photo showed him and Emma locked in intimate hugs, laughing freely and engrossed in deep conversations.

“How does Emma know Paul?” Julia asked, almost too frightened to hear the answer.

Damon cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled. “Three years ago, they began an affair.”

Julia looked at Paul’s handsome face. A prominent and respected doctor, known for his frequent daytime television appearances, Paul was married to Victoria Halifax, the sister of Julia’s husband, James. The epitome of matrimonial bliss, Julia struggled to comprehend how Paul could betray Victoria and how Emma factored into the deceit.

“From what I can ascertain, they met on a dating app,” Damon continued. “Emma initiated the contact, and once the affair had begun, she sought out a job at Paul’s practice. They worked closely together for a couple of years before Emma moved to Glendale. It also appears that the affair continues to this day. Last week they met up at a hotel in Maidstone for a few hours.”

Julia’s breathing felt unsteady as her head swirled with the information from Damon’s investigation. Suddenly, her eyes widened and the truth dawned on her. “She was using him,” she said with a breathless whisper. “Emma’s planned this the whole time. She’s been plotting to destroy my family for years.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

“So, what’s all this about?” Charlotte asked from a dark leather armchair in James’ study as her brother sat opposite and Anna, the maid, placed a tray containing a silver coffee service down on the antique mahogany table beside her. “A royal summons? Something serious is obviously going on.”

A heavy frown settled over James’ chiselled Hugh Grant-like features. “Lottie, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Charlotte lifted the silver coffee pot from the tray and poured herself a cup as the steam twisted into the air. “This sounds ominous,” she replied with a concerned frown. “You’re not dying, are you?”

“No.” A nervousness settled over James as he watched his sister return the coffee pot to the tray and take a sip of the delicious brown brew. “It’s Nick,” he said, clearing his throat and letting out an exhale of breath to settle his rising anxiety. “It’s time you knew the truth.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

The Oak & Vine,
Glendale

The Oak & Vine bustled with a busy lunch trade as Carol Kennedy, the landlady of the busy pub, stood behind the dark wooden bar pouring a pint. She glanced towards her husband and noticed a look of concern etched on Tony‘s face as he stood at the other end of the bar. His eyes scanned an opened letter while he sorted through the mail. Handing a young man his pint, Carol took his money and then, sensing something amiss, walked the few paces to her husband’s side.

“Sweets, what’s wrong?” she asked, reaching out and rubbing the middle of Tony’s back tenderly.

Tony glanced up and passed her a letter. “It’s Luke,” he murmured, referencing his incarcerated son. “He’s being released from prison.”

Carol’s eyes widened as she caught her breath. Luke, Tony’s son from his first marriage, had been absent from their lives for a decade and a half, locked up for a crime many in Glendale couldn’t bring themselves to talk about. As her eyes scanned the letter that did indeed confirm Luke’s imminent release, Carol felt an ominous shadow settle over her marriage.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Pineview House,
Glendale

Arriving home early from work, Mark Sinclair’s gunmetal grey Audi Q7 pulled into the gravel driveway of Pineview House. It had been a hell of a day, and, with the car in park, the senior civil servant took a moment of reflection before exiting the vehicle and heading inside.

Pineview was still and quiet. The house felt soulless without Charlotte and Natalie to help fill the space. Dumping his black leather satchel on the dining table, Mark found the tension in his shoulders easing at the thought of a long, relaxing shower.

There came a sudden and forceful knock at the door.

Startled, Mark let out a frustrated groan. He considered ignoring whoever it was – most probably someone trying to sell something that he neither wanted nor needed. There was another powerful banging on the door and it was evident whoever it was wasn’t going away. Mark had no choice but to see who it was. When he swung open the door, the sight that greeted him stopped Mark in his tracks. “What do you want?” he managed to bark.

Judith Bancroft stood before him with a face like thunder, her usually frosty glare icier than normal. “We need to talk.”

“There is nothing you could say that would ever interest me in any way,” Mark snarled with a viciousness that Judith seemed to be expecting. A mutual understanding of hostile avoidance stretched between them and ensured that they hadn’t spoken since the tragic events of September 2nd 2007.

Judith squared her shoulders and set her jaw. “Trust me, you’re going to want to hear what I have to say. It’s about Natalie,” she insisted firmly as she pushed past and entered his home.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

Hidden away in the safe domesticity of Honeysuckle Cottage, Emma Blake lay on the sofa in the foetal position with a cushion tucked under her head, barely paying any attention to the repeat of “A Place in the Sun” that was playing on the television. She had called in sick to work after succumbing to a late summer cold.

The show about a sixty-something couple house hunting in the Costa del Sol broke for a commercial break, and Emma found her attention wandering. On the old mantelpiece, above the word men – a quaint feature carved into the wood – was the photograph Julia had given her a few days earlier. The image of her and Michael Bancroft made her smile. The photo, taken at a house party in Brixton in 1997, was propped against a framed photograph of her grandparents. In it, a fifteen-year-old Emma – dressed in jeans, a lavender cami top, and a black stretchy choker necklace – looked morose while a sixteen-year-old Michael draped his arm around her shoulder. She thought of how young they looked. If only they knew what awaited them after that fateful meeting on the evening of July 19th, 1997.

Reflections of the years spent with Michael played in Emma’s mind, as did the horrible news delivered to her from Julia about his untimely and tragic death nearly seventeen years ago. Spurred into action, Emma jumped from the sofa and grabbed her laptop from the coffee table. She opened the browser and hesitated for a moment, her fingers poised over the keyboard, before typing:

Michael Bancroft car accident death Glendale 2007

She hit enter. Instantly, the search results populated the screen, and one headline in particular caught her eye.

Tragedy Rocks Local Community

Emma clicked on the link, and as her eyes scanned the article displayed on the screen, her breath caught in her throat. Slack-jawed, she raised a hand to her mouth. “Omigod!”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

Charlotte sat in the armchair stupefied. The revelation that her nephew – no, the boy she had believed to be her nephew all these years – was not biologically related to her had come like a thunderbolt. “I don’t understand,” she said, staring blankly at the familiar surroundings of James’ study as she tried to process everything. “Julia gave birth to Nick. I remember. We drove up to London to see you, and Julia was in bed holding him. She gave birth to him. I can see it as clear as day.” Charlotte looked to her brother as he paced the room.

James shook his head. “No. She didn’t.”

“I know what I saw, James,” Charlotte replied with a snuffle at her brother’s ridiculousness.

“You saw what we wanted you to see, Lottie.”

Charlotte watched her brother walk back to the chair opposite her and sit down. Thoughts of Nick swirled in her mind. He looked just like James, didn’t he? Did he? She suddenly couldn’t remember his face. No, he did. He had to.

James felt the need to explain. “You know Julia and I were in France that year,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clamped together as if praying.

“Yes.” Charlotte nodded, remembering the gorgeous penthouse apartment James and Julia owned on the Champs-Élysées that she had holidayed in numerous times as a teenager.

“Well, Judith found out that Michael had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. They were both crackheads, and she was on the game to fund their habit.” The words tumbled from James’ mouth quickly as the memory played in his mind, as vivid now as it was twenty-five years ago. “Judith was desperate to get the baby away from that lifestyle, so she came up with a story that Julia fell pregnant while we were in France, and on the way back home she went into labour in London,” he said, rubbing his hands together in nervousness. “Emily, the junkie teenage prostitute, had the baby in our penthouse; we took it and told you all that Julia had given birth. When you, mum, dad, Victoria, everyone, came to visit us, it was easy to stage it and say that Julia had a homebirth.”

Reality suddenly dawned on Charlotte. Ghosts of the past whispered in her ears, and her eyes frantically scanned the room as her mind popped and fizzed with exploding realisation after exploding realisation. Michael. Emily. The puzzle pieces fell into place, and, as guilt settled over her, Charlotte felt her mouth go dry. Her hands began to tremble.

James continued, unaware of his sister’s inner turmoil. “We paid off the doctor and registered the birth, and that was it. As far as anyone was concerned, Nick was ours.”

“But he’s not yours,” Charlotte said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as James’ story sunk in. “Nick isn’t your son. He’s Michael’s.” It hurt to say his name. Her heart ached. “He’s Michael’s.”

“He is ours in all but blood,” James corrected.

Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t get why you’re telling me this.”

James let out a deep sigh and flopped back in his chair. “Because we need your help, Lottie. Emily is here in the village, and she’s going to tell Nick the truth.”

Charlotte unconsciously clasped a hand to her mouth. “What?”

“The new G.P.” James said, his eyes intently focused on Charlotte’s. “Emma Blake is Emily Barlow.”

Five words were all it took for Charlotte’s perfect world to explode into a firestorm. The secret she had long hidden now threatened to be exposed. Michael’s face flashed in her mind. She could hear his voice and smell his aftershave. Seventeen years of silence and secrecy threatened to consume her. “Oh my God,” she whispered as a wave of nausea crashed over her. “This can’t be happening.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Village Green,
Glendale

In the warmth of the late August sunshine, Natalie sat on a weathered wooden bench to the northern end of the village green. From her vantage point, she could see All Saints Church and the hills that rose up behind it. Flecks of sunlight filtered through the leaves of the nearby oak tree and cast moving shadows across the piece of paper in her hands.

Natalie’s fingers traced the words written in her mother’s familiar and elegant script. The note that she had found tucked in the back of her mother’s favourite novel a few years earlier was now brittle from the number of times that she had read it. While her siblings, Sebastian and Sarah, had memories of their mother, Natalie did not. Aged just two when her mother had died, the tattered note, scribbled in secret, was the only tangible link she had to the woman now lost to time.

My darling Marky Mark,
I am sorry. I regret the hurt I have caused more than you know. May you forgive me in time.
If anything happens to me, know that it was Julia Harrington-Jones. She will kill me for what I have done.
I am forever sorry.
Your Jenny xx

–  G L E N D A L E  –

All Saints Church,
Glendale

The churchyard of All Saints was quiet. In the air, a gentle breeze carried the pleasant scent of blooming wildflowers and the distant chatter of birdsong. Back in Glendale, with Damon’s revelations still fresh in her mind, Julia stood at her brother’s grave, her hands clasped tightly together as she gazed down at the weathered headstone.

IN MEMORY OF
MICHAEL EDWARD BANCROFT
23 SEPTEMBER 1981 – 2 SEPTEMBER 2007
ALWAYS IN OUR HEARTS

Although it had been nearly seventeen years since the tragic car accident that had claimed his life, the hurt, pain, and guilt that Julia felt was still as raw as ever. “He’s better off without a crackhead like you in his life.” The final words that she had ever spoken to her baby brother echoed in her mind. The look of hurt that had crossed Michael’s face as he heard them haunted Julia’s dreams. If only she had known what was about to unfold on that rainy September afternoon, she never would have said it. But that’s the thing about life: it is unpredictable, and you never know what is just around the corner.

As Julia stood there, lost in her thoughts, her gaze shifted to the neighbouring grave, marked by a light grey granite headstone adorned with wilting flowers.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF
JENNIFER GERTRUDE SINCLAIR
18 FEBRUARY 1970 – 2 SEPTEMBER 2007
BELOVED WIFE & MOTHER
SLEEPING PEACEFULLY

In the distance, movement on the village green caught Julia’s attention. She watched as Natalie rose from the bench on which she had been sitting and placed something in the pocket of her flowy floral dress. Natalie surveyed her surroundings, and, as their eyes met across the distance, she froze. Julia’s head lowered, and she glared back at the teenager from beneath her eyebrows. The hostile history that bubbled between them began to reach boiling point.

NEXT TIME…

• The tragic events of September 2007 reveal secrets long considered dead and buried.