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

PREVIOUSLY…

• Following the reveal of his affair with Lee, Tom took his own life.
• The village said a final goodbye to Tom.
• Queenie accepted Betty’s invitation to catch up for coffee to sort through their differences.
• Emma, having earlier discovered Tom’s affair, put pressure on him to reveal the truth to Kate. Following his suicide, she struggled with her guilt.
• Ben and Rebecca’s divorce was finalised.
• The Spencer family struggled to cope in the wake of Tom’s death.
• While at Nick’s bedside, Ed was shocked to see Dr. Lewis Carter and, following Jasmine’s questioning about how the two men knew each other, offered up a feeble excuse that he was a family friend.
• Tony received word that his son, Luke, was to be released from prison after 16 years.

All Saints Church,
Glendale

Under dappled shadows from the nearby oak tree, Kate Spencer stood at the grave of her husband, staring silently at the fresh mound of dirt that covered his final resting place. Two days had passed since she bid farewell to Tom, yet it seemed as if time had stood still.

“Kate?”

A voice broke through the silence, and she turned to see Reverend Turner approaching, his hands clasped in front of him, and a kind smile softening his features.

“Hello, Vicar.”

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his eyes searching hers for some sort of indication as to how she was coping with her husband’s death.

Kate paused for a moment and contemplated the question. “Honestly? I don’t know,” she said in her thick Welsh accent as she let out a deep exhale and her attention returned to Tom’s grave. “I feel like I’m trapped just beneath the surface and can’t break my head through the water to catch a breath. The pain is just… I don’t even have the words for it.”

Reverend Turner nodded, his expression growing sombre as he stepped closer to her. “What was it that the late queen said, ‘Grief is the price we pay for love.’ If that’s the case, then your level of sorrow is a testament to your love for Tom. It’s also something we can’t just brush away, but with love and support, you will come through this, Kate.”

“I lie awake at night thinking about his final moments,” Kate confessed as her eyes began to glisten with the beginnings of fresh tears. “Did he know what was happening? Was he scared? Did he struggle? Did it hurt? Did he think about us as his eyes closed for the final time? Did he want to stop it after it started? Did he regret it?” She stopped as she choked on her emotions, her eyes darting in Reverend Turner’s direction to see if he was judging her. He wasn’t. In fact, he looked like he understood and that maybe he had thought the same horrible thoughts. “I know I shouldn’t think these things, but I do, because, more than anything, I don’t want to think that he left this world alone and scared. He didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.”

“From what I understand, you were with him at the end. So, he wasn’t alone, Kate; he had you there with him in his final moments.”

“People say that what he did was selfish, but I don’t think so,” Kate said, turning her head to look at the local vicar. “I think it took courage. I know I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. I know I couldn’t do it.” She paused, taking stock of the words that had just slipped from her lips, and closed her eyes for a quiet moment. She took in a deep inhale of breath, hoping it would steady her. She held it for a beat longer than a minute and then it out in a long, slow exhale. Her eyes reopened, and the bright light of the September sunshine made her squint. “I don’t understand why he thought that was his only way out, but I don’t think it was selfish. I think it was the final desperate act of a broken man, and it breaks my heart that he felt that was his only option.”

Reverend Turner took a moment to reflect upon Kate’s words.

Amongst the silence, tears began to well in Kate’s eyes, and she bit down on her lip. “Then I think stupid thoughts.”

“Such as?”

Kate swallowed, almost embarrassed to admit them. “Well, you hear that people who commit suicide don’t go to heaven. You hear people say that, don’t you?” She glanced in Reverend Turner’s direction for some sort of validation, “And I think, what if he’s not in heaven? What if… what if he didn’t find peace?”

Reverend Turner’s expression grew serious. “Faith tells us that God is loving and merciful,” he said with a gentle tone. “In times of suffering, we must trust that He knows the battles we fight and that He offers grace and peace to those who struggle. I believe Tom is at peace now.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do,” Reverend Turner said firmly. “The world we see is often filled with pain and confusion, but the divine realm is one of understanding and love. Tom may have been lost in his pain, but that doesn’t define his spirit or his soul.”

Kate looked back at Tom’s grave, and her worried thoughts melted away, replaced by warm memories of the life they had shared – the laughter, the adventure, the love. “I miss him,” she murmured. “I really miss him.”

As Reverend Turner placed a sympathetic hand on Kate’s shoulder, overhead, a red-breasted robin – Tom’s favourite bird – landed on a branch of the nearby large oak tree. It twittered and trilled as it produced a beautiful song that caught their attention. Kate looked up at the small creature and smiled, hoping it was the same robin who had brought her comfort at Tom’s funeral. In that quiet moment of serene peace, Kate chose to believe that it was a sign from above and that no matter what the future had in store, Tom would be by her side every step of the way.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

Emma Blake entered the living room carrying two oversized Cornishware mugs of tea. Her steps were soft and cautious – as she had overfilled the cups – and she kept a trained eye on the milky brews, careful not to spill a drop. On the greyish-blue three-seater sofa, Ben Granger sat looking at photos on his phone. He carried a pained expression, and his eyes appeared glassy from tears. Emma briefly glanced in his direction and couldn’t help but feel responsible for some of the grief he carried. She carefully placed their mugs of tea down on the coffee table and resumed her seat at her boyfriend’s side.

“It still doesn’t seem real,” Ben said, almost in a whisper, as he glanced at Emma before returning his attention to the photo of him and Tom taken last Christmas.

Tucking a leg under her, Emma reached across and rubbed Ben’s arm in sympathy. “It won’t for some time.” A silence settled over them briefly as Ben swiped between images. “How are Kate and the kids? I’ve tried phoning, but she’s not taking my calls.”

The mention of not hearing from Kate only amplified Emma’s guilt. Although she didn’t want to push herself onto her friend, especially given everything she had just gone through, Emma knew in her bones that Kate was upset at her. She could just feel it.

“Not great,” Ben replied, not registering the concern in Emma’s voice. “They just don’t understand.”

“I don’t think anybody does. That’s the thing about suicide.”

Ben glanced back at Emma as the word hit him like a hammer blow. He still couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I just don’t get it. It doesn’t make sense. Tom was… he was always the strong one. He had everything figured out.”

Emma turned her body toward him and rested a sympathetic hand on his thigh. “People don’t always show what’s going on inside. Sometimes, the strongest ones are the ones who hide their pain the best.”

“But why? Why would he do this? There had to be signs, something… anything.” Ben’s mind raked back through memories, searching for clues he had missed, wondering if he should have reached out more often, if he should have known better.

“Sometimes, it’s not about what you see. It’s what people don’t show.”

Ben felt a wave of frustration. “But you didn’t know him like I did! He was my cousin, Em! We grew up together! I should have known if something was wrong.” He dragged his fingers through his dark hair and felt like screaming. The pain was too great, and the unanswered questions were too heavy.

Emma watched him, knowing that nothing she could say would ease the hurt her boyfriend carried in his heart. “Ben, you can’t blame yourself. You can’t carry that weight.”

“Why not? Someone has to!” Ben ran a hand down his face. “What if I could have saved him? What if I could have reached out? What if I could have—”

“But you couldn’t,” Emma interjected, sharper than she meant too, as she squeezed his thigh. “Nobody could’ve, and you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

A tense silence fell between them as Ben searched his mind for answers while Emma kept the truth secret. Ben rested his hand on Emma’s and glanced back at her, forcing a smile of apology.

“I just don’t understand how he could go through with it. It’s like he just… gave up.”

“He might have felt trapped,” Emma replied, questioning her own actions and trying to ignore the terrible guilt that plagued her thoughts. Had she contributed to Tom’s hurt? Had her persistence to tell the truth been the thing that finally tipped him over the edge? “People do things when they feel like there’s no way out.”

A frown of confusion settled on Ben’s brow. “What do you mean? Trapped how?”

“With everything that was going on and all the secrets, maybe Tom felt that he—”

“Secrets?”

Emma felt a knot in her stomach as she watched Ben process her words. His jaw tightened and his fingers fidgeted as he put together the puzzle pieces. As the truth dawned on him like a glorious spring morning, Ben looked at Emma with wide eyes and a hurt expression.

“You knew?”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Gatwick Airport,
Horley, England

The frenetic energy of Gatwick Airport buzzed around Claire Spencer and her brother, Dan, as they sat at a small table in Pret A Manger, Claire absentmindedly picking at the garnet-coloured plastic lid of her takeaway almond milk latte, while Dan took another bite of his turkey and cheddar sandwich. It had been a whirlwind few days, and, truth be told, neither of them had yet come to terms with the fact that their older brother, Tom, was no longer with them.

An announcement over the PA system pulled Claire from her thoughts, and she glanced down at her watch. Her flight home to Paris was still a good hour away.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back so soon,” she said with a heaviness that gave Dan cause for concern as he wiped the corners of his mouth on a paper napkin. “Maybe I should tell Benoît that I need a couple more days?”

“Benoît needs you,” Dan said with a mouthful of food as he glanced in his sister’s direction. “He can’t help that he broke his leg.”

“But I feel like I should be here.” The memory of Tom’s funeral felt like a boulder resting in the pit of Claire’s stomach. She glanced at Dan as he took another bite of his sandwich. He had been a rock for her the last few days. Although the baby of the family, Dan was the strong one, and Claire was grateful that he had managed to get leave from the navy to come home to Glendale for Tom’s farewell. “I’m worried about Mum.”

“She’ll be okay,” Dan replied, forcing his tone to sound more confident than he felt. “It’s just… it’s all so fresh.”

“She’s not coping, Dan.” Claire bit her lip, upset at the thought of their mother, Carol, fragile and lost in her grief. After Tom’s death, it had been like watching a once vibrant woman fade into the background of her own life. “I’m worried.”

Dan finished his sandwich, wiped the corners of his mouth on the paper napkin, and dropped it down onto his small paper plate. “I’m going to stay,” he said, as if the decision had been made long before. “Kate can’t run the farm by herself, so I’m going to stay and help. Plus, I can help Tony look after Mum and Nana.”

“But… the navy,” Claire started, but Dan raised a hand to silence her.

“Already sorted.” He shrugged as if it were nothing. “I handed my notice in yesterday, and they’ve transferred me to Portsmouth to serve out my final few weeks.”

“Portsmouth!” Claire was flabbergasted. “That’s, what, two hours from here? That’s insane, Dan!”

He brushed away her concerns as if shooing away a fly. “It’s only for a couple of weeks,” he said it as if it were nothing. “Besides, what matters is making sure Mum is okay and keeping Greystone Downs in the family.” He paused and offered his big sister one of his usual charming smiles. “You need to go back to Paris. You need to look after Benoît and you need to keep living your life. We all do. Like Kate said, for Tom.”

Claire nodded reluctantly as tears pricked her eyes. “You’re sure about this?”

Dan nodded.

“And you’ll really take care of her?”

“Always.”

“And you’ll call me if anything changes or you’re worried?”

“Yes,” Dan chuckled, and his perfect smile made his eyes sparkle. “It will be fine. We’ll all be fine, and Tony, Nana, and me – we’ll all help Mum and Kate get through this. I promise.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

“Answer me, Emma. Did you know about Tom and Lee?”

Emma swallowed heavily. Through Ben’s anger, she could see the pleading look in his eyes that begged her not to hurt him. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, and the distance between them increased as she withdrew her hand from his thigh.

“Not exactly,” she said, as she looked towards her lap, unable to look at his pleading dark eyes for a moment longer.

A heavy frown burrowed into Ben’s brow. “Not exactly? What does that even mean? You either did or you didn’t!”

“I knew he was seeing somebody.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me! It matters to Kate!”

Ben’s tone carried a rising level of anger, and Emma glanced back at him. Even now, in the wake of Tom’s death, she felt torn between her professional duty as his doctor and her personal duty as Kate’s friend. “It’s private.”

Ben scoffed and rolled his eyes as he threw himself back against the sofa like a wrestler receiving an overdramatic blow.

Emma took a moment, allowing them both to feel the weight of the conversation before continuing. “I told him to be honest with Kate; I really did, and I told him that if he didn’t tell her the truth, then I would.”

“What?” Ben’s head slowly turned in Emma’s direction as his eyes narrowed. It slowly became clear to him that if anyone was to blame for turning up the pressure that caused Tom to do what he did, then Emma was solely responsible.

Emma felt their relationship slipping through her fingers. “I… I thought that was the right thing to do. I never considered with his depression that…” Her voice tailed off as the weight of her own guilt became too much to bear. “I… I just never thought… I’m sorry.”

Ben looked away, struggling to process his emotions. “Sorry isn’t enough right now. I thought we were a team, Em. I thought that we shared everything together. No more secrets. But now, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Emma reached for Ben, but he shifted away. “Please, Ben. I love you.”

“Love shouldn’t come with doubt and secrets,” he replied with a sadness that seemed to engulf him. “I just don’t know if I can do this anymore, Emma. I feel like every time I get to know you, there’s always another secret uncovered. I asked you the other week if there were any more secrets, and you said no. You lied to me, Emma. You looked me in the eye and lied to me.”

“Ben—”

“I can’t do this anymore.” Ben pushed himself up off the sofa and wiped a tear from his eye. “I can’t be with someone who keeps secrets, Emma. I’m sorry, but we’re done.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

CuriosiTEAS,
Glendale

The bell above the door jingled softly as Betty Worchester shuffled into the café cum antique store, welcomed by the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee and distinctive smell of croissants. She paused, and her eyes scanned the premises before landing on a table in the corner where Queenie Baxter sat, fidgeting with the wristwatch.

Sat round-shouldered in her chair, Queenie looked up and caught Betty’s eye. “Oh, ‘ere she is! Lose ya watch, did ya?” She asked in her usual estuary accent and sucked in her lips before letting out a sharp tut. “Still, better late than never, I s’pose.”

Betty settled her heavy frame into the chair opposite her adversary of nearly 50 years and rolled her eyes. “It’s only two past.”

“Yeah, an’ we agreed on twelve.”

“Are you really going to be this petty?” Betty sighed, battle-weary after half a century of squabbles and insults. “You really hate me that much you’re going to squabble over two minutes?”

Queenie shrugged and sniffed a short intake of breath. It was hard to break the habit of a lifetime. “I’m old!” She grumbled. “I ain’t got two minutes left to waste!”

Betty couldn’t contain her smirk. “You certainly got the old part right!”

“Oi!” Queenie’s azure eyes opened so wide they sparkled in the sunshine coming in through the window nearby, and a snuffle of amusement, mixed with a hint of offence, slipped from her lips. “Cheeky cow!”

An awkward silence settled over the two stubborn souls, each one struggling to find the words to shatter a decades-long rivalry that had become Glendale folklore. Queenie glanced back at Betty and was the first to break the tension.

“So, come on then,” she said as she slapped her hands against the tabletop and lifted her tired old bones. “Wot ya havin’? My treat.”

Betty answered without hesitation, almost as if she had been planning her order for such a question. “A large cappuccino. Extra foam. Lots of chocolate. Six sugars. And a slice of Vicky Sponge.”

Queenie’s lips pursed and her eyes tightened at the addition of the slice of cake. “Always did take everythin’ for nothin’!”

While Queenie hobbled off to the counter, Betty watched her as a gentle smile settled across her features and she relaxed into her chair.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Bluebell Cottage,
Glendale

Lee Campbell sat on the sofa in the living room of Bluebell Cottage, his legs tucked under him, as he blankly stared at the television, barely absorbing the episode of “Bargain Hunt” that played out on BBC One. His mind was elsewhere as guilty thoughts about Tom polluted his mind. In the days since Tom’s passing, Lee’s guilt had amplified. Would Tom still be alive if they hadn’t done what they did? Did Kate blame him for Tom’s suicide? Would she ever forgive him?

There came a sharp knock at the front door that shattered Lee’s thoughts. Startled, he glanced towards the window but could scarcely make out the figure through the curtains. Lee chose to ignore whoever it was and muted the television, pretending not to be home. He wasn’t in the mood for visitors. The figure knocked again and again and again. With a hesitant sigh, Lee pushed himself up off the sofa, crossed the living room, and entered the hallway. When he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat.

Dressed in dark denim jeans and a black t-shirt with cutwork details around the neckline, Kate shifted her weight to her right hip as she looked back at Lee with a tight expression. “There’s some things I need to say.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

CuriosiTEAS,
Glendale

“Thanks for this,” Betty said as a young female barista placed the steaming mugs of coffee and two small plates – each containing a slice of freshly baked Victoria sponge – in front of them. She wrapped her hands around her mug of cappuccino, absorbing the warmth, and offered Queenie a gentle smile. “I really appreciate it, Lizzie.”

Queenie looked back at Betty from beneath her brow as she picked up a cake fork and broke away a piece of the fluffy treat. “Please, call me Beth. I insist.”

“Why not Queenie?”

“‘Cause we ain’t there yet.”

“Fair doos,” Betty replied with a nod before taking a sip of the piping hot beverage. She knew better than anyone that there was only so far you could push Queenie Baxter before you reached a point of no return, and from the tightening of her foe’s lips, Betty knew she was at the limit.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair as they both sat with their thoughts, reflecting on years of bickering and the events that had led them to this point.

“Ya said ya wanted to sort things out for Audrey’s sake, an’ I’ll do anythin’ for ‘er,” Queenie said, breaking the silence as she shoved a forkful of cake into her mouth. “So, if it means sittin’ down with ya, then I guess that’s wot I gotta do.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Even if you’re doin’ it under duress,” Betty joked as a smile softened her harsh features.

Queenie looked her rival up and down as she mushed the cake between her dentures and swallowed it. “Ya should do more of that.”

“What?”

“Smile,” she said, pointing her cake fork in Betty’s direction to emphasise her point. “Ya ‘ave a nice smile. Ya always did.”

Betty felt her cheeks flush, and she looked down at the mug still firmly wrapped in her grasp.

“Would stop ya gettin’ more frown lines an’ all,” Queenie added, unable to resist a friendly jab as a smile tugged heavily at the corners of her mouth.

Betty’s smile grew, and she felt a warmth spreading through her. It was nice to engage in a bit of friendly banter for once and not have to duck and weave as hurtful comment after hurtful comment were lobbed in each other’s direction.

“I wanted to apologise,” she began, her tone shifting as she set her cup down.

Queenie shovelled another chunk of cake in her mouth and fired off a glance back in Betty’s direction. “For wot?”

“For everything. For the fights. The silly arguments. The cross words. For Harold.”

Queenie snorted, amused at the mention of Judith Bancroft’s long dead husband. “It ain’t me ya should be apologisin’ to for ‘arold!” She squawked like a parrot. “Yer the one who played ‘ide the sausage with ‘im behind Judith’s back, not me!”

Betty’s cheeks flared a crimson red. “But I let you take the blame, and that wasn’t fair. So, for that, I’m sorry.”

Queenie nodded, appreciating the apology but sensing there was more Betty wanted to say.

“And I’m sorry for the awful things I’ve said and done to you over the years. I guess, if I’m bein’ honest, I was always jealous of you.”

A heavy frown creased Queenie’s brow as she cocked an eyebrow. “Jealous? Of me? Ya ain’t been huffin’ glue or somethin’ ‘ave ya?”

Betty cackled. If there was one thing she missed about Queenie, it was her sharp wit and razor-like quips. But her laughter soon faded, and a seriousness took over her expression. “You’ve always been loved and adored ’round these parts,” she began as her eyes moved to the table, and she patted the tabletop as if trying to brush away something that wasn’t there. “But me? I see the looks people give me and hear the snide remarks they make when my back’s turned. I see them scurry across to the other side of the road to avoid me. I know I put on a brave face, but I ain’t made of stone, Li… Beth.”

Betty paused, and for a moment, Queenie noticed the shining beginnings of tears in her eyes. She swallowed her mouthful of cake and rested her cake fork against the edge of the plate. The seriousness of the moment took hold.

Betty sniffed, and her mouth twitched as if she were trying to push her emotions away. “I lost everythin’ after that stuff with Harold. Judith made sure the village turned on me, an’ you played your part in that an’ all.”

Queenie suddenly felt terribly guilty.

“When Gerald found out, it put him in an early grave, and when the boys found out the truth later on, well, they all turned their backs on me.” Betty’s expression became vacant as she disappeared into her pain. “Trevor moved to Australia, and I ain’t heard from him since; Robert is God knows where; and Gareth, well, I’m lucky to hear from him once a year. Yasmin sends a card every Christmas, but besides that…” Her voice trailed off, and for a moment there was silence. “I lost everythin’, Beth,” she continued, glancing back at Queenie through glassy eyes, “and all for a stupid little mistake nearly fifty years ago. A mistake that many in this village have committed, but one I’m still bein’ punished for. Why? Because I’m a woman? Because I embarrassed the Wicked Witch of Glendale? Many more have done far worse, yet I’m the one that’s been ostracised and banished for nearly half a century. I don’t think the punishment fits the crime, d’you?”

“No,” Queenie replied resolutely and reached across the table to place her hand atop Betty’s. The kind and intimate gesture of understanding and friendship seemed to take the breath from Betty’s lungs. “I’m a big enough person to see when I’ve dun wrong, an’ I’ve dun wrong by ya, Betty. An’ for that, I’m sorry.”

Betty’s face crumpled, and she forced a smile through her tears. “Thank you, Beth. I appreciate that.”

Queenie rubbed her thumb against the back of Betty’s liver-spotted hand, patted it, and then sat back in her seat, ending the brief display of kindness. “Now, don’t be gettin’ all sentimental on me. I’m doin’ this for Audrey.”

“Of course. For Audrey,” Betty nodded in agreement, although she knew better.

Queenie moistened her lips and shifted uncomfortably on her seat as she prepared to put an end to half a century of bickering and fighting. “But I am sorry for the wicked things I’ve said an’ dun, an’ I ‘ope that ya can forgive me,” she said, almost nervously. “No matter wot anyone says, Betty, underneath that scrappy mop of ‘air an’ those mucky clothes is a ‘uman bein’ who deserves to be treated with love, kindness, an’ respect, just like everyone else. So, I am sorry, an’ I ‘ope ya can forgive me.”

Betty ignored the final barb that Queenie had fired off about her appearance, choosing to take the high road and turn the page on a new chapter between them. “I forgive you, Beth. And I hope you can forgive me too.”

“Consider it dun.”

For the first time in nearly fifty years, Queenie and Betty looked into each other’s eyes and shared a gaze of kindness and a smile of friendship.

A mischievous grin slithered across Queenie’s face as she picked up her mug of coffee, unable to resist firing off just one last jab. “I guess I’ll ‘ave to start chuckin’ out the spoilt milk instead of sellin’ it to ya!”

“You what?” Betty squawked as her eyes crinkled, her shoulders jumped, and her body began to jiggle with laughter, something she hadn’t done for a very long time. “I bloody knew it, ya cheeky ol’ cow!”

Queenie threw her head back and cackled. The amusement became contagious, and Betty couldn’t help but laugh louder – partly with Queenie and partly at the absurd possibility that she had been drinking expired milk for nearly half a century. As the two elderly women shared a hearty laugh that brought tears to their eyes, for a moment, it felt like they had stepped back to a time before grudges and disdain had taken root. Slowly, as if by divine intervention, the bitterness that had defined their interactions for the majority of their lives dissolved and the first sprout of friendship began to grow.

“I’m just pullin ya leg, Betty!” Queenie replied, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, despite the fact she wasn’t joking – not that Betty would ever have to know. “Just pullin’ ya leg.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

The Oak & Vine,
Glendale

Upstairs, in the master bedroom of The Oak and Vine, the heavy curtains were drawn, blocking out not just the light but the world beyond. Barely a scrap of the afternoon sun shone in through the fabric, yet Carol Kennedy could still see dust motes dancing in the air. The pub landlady was curled up in bed, hiding away under the covers as she suffocated under the weight of her grief. She had been there for two days, anchored to the bed after Tom’s funeral, unable to function beyond silently watching dust enjoy more freedom than she had.

She could hear the soft pad of Tony’s footsteps as he climbed the stairs, and Carol knew her husband would soon be at the bedroom door. His arrival, although well-meaning, felt like an intrusion into her perfect world of solitude and denial. There was a gentle tap on the door before it opened with a creak, and Carol instantly recognised the distinct aromas of buttered toast and Earl Grey tea. Her stomach grumbled, yearning for substance, but she denied it. Again.

“Sweetheart?” Tony said gently, as if afraid to disturb the fragile atmosphere. “I’ve made you some toast and tea.”

Carol didn’t respond, but Tony didn’t mind. He knew she was going through something he could never understand, and although he had resolved to give her space and time, Tony couldn’t help but feel he was beginning to lose Carol to her grief. He carried the toast and tea over to her and left it on the bedside table, where it joined the remnants of the morning snack he had brought up earlier and yet another cup of cold, untouched tea.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart? Did you want me to get you anything?”

Carol refused to answer. She just lay silently in bed, blinking and watching the dust motes.

Tony let out a deep exhale and softly stroked Carol’s curly red hair. Her natural curls were now wild and oily. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if trying to will her back into the land of the living. It suddenly felt like it wasn’t only Tom who had died on that terrible Monday afternoon. The woman he loved and adored, who was once so vibrant and full of life, had been hollowed out by her grief, and Tony suddenly began to worry that he might never see her again.

“I’ll come and check on you again soon,” he said with a heavy heart as he turned to gather the old plate and cup. “I love you.”

From Carol there was just silence, and as Tony walked out of the room and closed the bedroom door behind him, a single tear broke from Carol’s eye and rolled down her cheek. She loved him too, more than she could say.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Bluebell Cottage,
Glendale

With her hands in the pockets of her dark denim jeans, Kate stepped into the living room of Bluebell Cottage and looked around. The room, decorated in shades blue and grey and containing modern knickknacks that she recognised from her frequent visits to the Next store in Maidstone, felt cosy. The normalness of it all almost seemed disappointing. She didn’t know what she expected, having never stepped foot inside Lee and Jack’s home before, but seeing how mundane it was almost left her disappointed. There was nothing there that Tom didn’t have at home, and that was the thought that stuck in her mind. She was looking for something to explain away his infidelity – something grand and opulent that would tempt him away from her and the drudgery of Greystone Downs. But there wasn’t anything. It was just a normal house, and Lee was just a normal guy.

An apprehensive Lee followed her into the living room. “Kate—”

Kate spun on her heel with an open-palmed hand raised, ceasing any possible excuse or explanation Lee felt compelled to offer. “No, I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Lee. That isn’t how this is going to go.” There was a calmness to her voice that was quite unsettling. The anger and hurt were clear to see, but the unnerving calm was bordering on cold and menacing. “I’m just going to say my piece, and then I’ll go.”

Lee swallowed heavily and nodded in acceptance before his head titled forward slightly as if too heavy to be held up, and he looked back at her from under his brow as shame and guilt took hold. “Okay.”

Kate moistened her lips with her tongue and took in a steadying breath before releasing it. She had practiced what she wanted to say in her head on the drive over, but now, standing before her dead husband’s lover, Kate couldn’t remember her points. Instead, she stood steadfast, pulled her shoulders back, and set herself to the spot.

“Before he… before Tom did what he did, we spoke about your… your thing, your affair,” she said in her thick Welsh accent as her eyes remained firmly locked on Lee’s. “I know all about it, so I don’t need you to explain it to me again or for you to try and talk your way into absolution. The grubby little details really don’t interest me.”

She paused for breath and to collect her thoughts before continuing. “What you two say you felt for each other, only you know if that was genuine. But if what you say is true, and you both did feel that way, then I know that you’ll be finding all of this as difficult as I am.”

Kate’s words caught Lee off guard, and his eyes became instantly glassy with tears. He had expected an argument, a heated exchange of words, feelings, and accusations. He had expected her to blame him for Tom’s death. But instead, he received understanding and compassion. Lee almost choked on his emotions. He didn’t understand how Kate could be so considerate of him given everything she was going to. But then again, that was Kate. She was one of life’s good people, and deep down, it added to Lee’s guilt how much he had hurt her.

Kate felt her chin quiver, but she pushed through, refusing to shed another tear, not now anyway. “You’ll be asking why? And what could you have done to stop him? You’ll be feeling sad and lonely. But above all else, you’ll be feeling guilty.” She saw Lee’s brow furrow with a grimace, and Kate knew she had hit a nerve. “Guilty that you didn’t see the signs. Guilty for the things you said and did and wondering if they were what tipped him over the edge. And guilty that you couldn’t save him. Believe me, I know,” she said with a slight sigh that seemed to weigh down her words. “But I just wanted to say that for what Tom did, you should have no guilt, Lee. He made that decision on his own.”

Lee quickly wiped a tear from his eye, thankful for Kate’s kindness and understanding and for releasing him from his guilt. “Thank you, Kate.”

“But don’t mistake my kindness for forgiveness,” Kate replied as she stepped forward, her eyes never moving from Lee’s. “Because what you and Tom did, for the pain you’ve caused and the blatant disrespect you have shown to me and my family, well, that I will never forgive. For that, you can feel guilty.” Kate saw Lee gulp, and she knew he understood. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. “Tom’s death had nothing to do with you, but destroying my family, well, that is on you, Lee.”

Without another word said, Kate broke her stare and walked out of the living room, leaving Lee standing in a stupefied silence as he processed the grenade she had lobbed in his direction. As Kate grasped for the knob of the front door, Lee’s voice cut through the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Kate looked back over her shoulder at the man her husband had risked everything for and looked him up and down one final time. Lee stood in the living room, looking back at her, with tears rolling down his cheeks and a pleading look on his face. Kate refused to offer him the absolution he so desperately wanted.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “You should be.”

With that, Kate pulled open the front door and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine before closing the door on Lee, on the affair, and on her resentment.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

The Oak & Vine,
Glendale

Leaning back in his wooden garden chair in the pub garden, Ben squinted against the afternoon sunlight as he emptied the remnants of his fifth pint and banged his pewter tankard against the tabletop. As he looked out across the village green, the world around him seemed to swirl as the haze of inebriation settled over him. Thoughts of Tom bled into reflections of Emma and the never-ending string of secrets she seemed to keep, while the pain of losing his cousin melted into the betrayal he felt from his girlfriend. Then he caught sight of her. On the far side of the village green, his ex-wife, Rebecca Williams, parked her silver BMW sedan out the front of her new home – Starling Cottage – and got out of the vehicle. Her familiar silhouette was almost ethereal as it was bathed in the golden warmth of the afternoon sunshine, and Ben watched on as she collected her designer handbag and pulled the straps over her shoulder, checked her trademark blonde bob in the reflection of the driver’s window, locked the car, and strode confidently towards her new home. He suddenly felt a warmth wash over him, and he yearned for the comfort of a familiar face.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Starling Cottage,
Glendale

“Okay! Okay!”

Rebecca muttered a series of profanities under her breath, cursing the person bashing their fists against her front door as she navigated a way through the maze of unpacked moving boxes that filled her new home. She had only been back in the village a few days, yet if this reception was anything to go by, she might soon come to regret her decision. She moved a small crate out of the way with her foot and opened the door. “Ben?”

“Hey!” Her ex-husband replied with breeziness and a slight slur that left no doubt that he was intoxicated. Ben swayed slightly as he stood at the threshold and seemed to overact, as if trying to convince her he was totally sober.

“Are you okay?”

“Golden!”

“You’re pissed.”

Ben closed an eye and held a hand in front of his face, with his index finger and thumb millimetres apart. “Teeny bit!”

Leaning against the doorframe, Rebecca pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow as she glanced down at her watch. “It’s not even half past twelve!”

Ben shrugged and chuckled heartily, his dimples creasing as the same dashing smile that had made her weak at the knees all those years ago softened his dark features, while his eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.

“Lock me up and throw away the key then! That’s what you do!” He said, slurring his words as he seemed to tilt forward before jerking himself straight again.

“That’s police, Ben. I’m a lawyer.”

“Same difference,” he said with an overexaggerated shrug and a sniff before running a thumb against his lips. “Prosecute me then! That’s what you’re good at! Prosecuting! Prosecute me like you used to! You still have the handcuffs, right?”

Rebecca refused the smile that tried to pull at the corners of her mouth. “I think you should go home.”

“And I think you should not tell me what to do!”

Rebecca knew better than to take the bait. While she wasn’t sure if Ben was after an argument or a friend, she knew in her heart that her ex-husband was hurting. “Would you like some water?”

After a moment of consideration, Ben’s head nodded like a bobblehead, and a rising nausea began to churn. “That might be a good idea.”

Rebecca turned and headed back through the house towards the kitchen, while Ben crossed the threshold, closed the front door quietly, and followed, looking around at the vast number of unpackaged boxes with astonishment.

“Here.” Rebecca handed him a small bottle of Evian.

Accepting it, Ben turned the bottle in his hands as if marvelling at it. “You never did like tap water,” he replied with a snuffle before cracking open the bottle and gulping it down.

Again, Rebecca chose not to rise. Instead, she leant against the kitchen counter – her arms folded across her chest – and watched her ex-husband with a concerned gaze. She knew Tom’s death would hit him hard; they were as close as cousins could be, but there was something about him that seemed broken, cracked beyond repair. “Ben, are you okay?”

The weight of Rebecca’s question hit him with the force of a lorry, and Ben sucked in his lips as his eyes instantly became glassy with tears.

“Hey,” Rebecca said, moving across the kitchen and rubbing a supportive hand against Ben’s back. “Don’t cry.”

“It’s over. Done.”

“What is?”

“Me and Emma,” Ben said with a heavy sniff. “She… she knew about Tom, and she kept it secret. Why does everybody I love lie and hurt me?” His chin quivered heavily, and his breaths began to shudder as he quickly wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Why am I so unlovable, Bec?”

Rebecca felt her heart ache. For all their problems and animosity, at her core, she still knew Ben to be a kind, loving, and decent man. All he wanted in life was to love and be loved in return, and, although she wasn’t a fan of Emma by any stretch of the imagination, Rebecca could see that her ex-husband had found that in the new village doctor.

“You are lovable,” she said with a gentle tone, rubbing circles into Ben’s back as she tried to comfort him without stepping over a line.

“I’m a nice guy.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m a great guy!”

Rebecca’s face puckered. “Well, now you’re getting a bit carried away.”

Ben chuckled as his tears gave way to laughter. Through glassy eyes – partly from tears and partly from booze – he turned his head and looked back at his ex-wife. “We were good once, you and me.”

Rebecca nodded in silent agreement, pulling her mouth into a taut line as she thought back to how they met. Memories of that warm summer night in 2016 in that steamy club in Maidstone made her miss the past. She remembered when she first laid eyes on him. The stolen glances. The first time she saw that smile, and looked deeply into those eyes. The first kiss that tasted like beer and vodka and smelt like cigarettes. The delicious kebabs eaten, sitting in the gutter as the sun rose the next morning. The realisation that he was someone special who would change her life.

“Ancient history,” she said softly, expelling the memories with an exhale of breath.

“Just like me and Emma.”

Ben’s body seemed to crumple, and he sobbed heavily. Years of supressed emotions were drawn out by alcohol, and Rebecca instinctively wrapped her arms around her ex-husband and held him tightly.

“Shh,” she said, stroking the back of his dark hair as she tried to soothe him. “I’m sure it isn’t that bad.”

“No, it is.” Ben shifted his head to look back at her as he sniffed and wiped his nose against the back of his hand. “We’re done. I can’t be with her after all the secrets. Nick was one thing, but Tom? I just don’t trust her anymore, Bec. I just don’t trust her.”

Ben placed his head against Rebecca’s chest, and she held it there, rubbing his back as her chin rested against the top of his head. The former lovers remained in their embrace for a moment, their hearts beating in unison, as a frisson of energy began to crackle and fizz between them. It had been years since they had been this close to one another, and it felt normal and natural. Ben slowly removed himself for Rebecca’s person, and he locked his dazzling dark eyes on hers. The moment shimmered, and they both knew what was to come. He traced the edge of her jaw with his thumb, and Rebecca swallowed heavily, excited at Ben’s touch. Without another thought, Ben leant in and kissed Rebecca tenderly on the lips.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

Emma let out a deep sigh of frustration as yet another call to Ben went unanswered. She had now tried six times, and every single one had gone directly to voicemail. It was apparent that his phone was either switched off or she was now blocked. Emma wiped the tears from her eyes. Although she had so far resisted the urge to drive to Glenbrook Farm, a twitchy Emma was now seriously considering it. She had to sort things out between them before their relationship cracked beyond repair.

A stern knock at the door gave her hope, and Emma practically flew through the cottage to answer it. Expecting Ben as she yanked it open, Emma stopped in her tracks. “Julia!”

Standing at the threshold, Julia Harrington-Jones frowned when she caught sight of Emma’s red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks. “Have you been crying?”

Embarrassed, Emma brushed a hand roughly against her cheeks in a desperate bid to wipe away her emotions. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

With pursed lips and an arched eyebrow, Julia didn’t believe her.

“Can I help you with something?”

Julia chose to ignore Emma’s tartness just this once. “I need to see your phone,” she said so matter-of-factly it was almost comical as she thrust out an open palm, expecting Emma to immediately comply and hand over the device.

Emma chuckled at the absurdity. “What?”

“I need to see your phone.” Julia clapped the fingers of her opened hand against her palm. “Show me your phone.”

“No.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“No!”

Julia practically recoiled at the forcefulness of Emma’s protest, and she seemed almost hurt by the admission. She sucked in her lips, moistened them with her tongue, and then released them with an exasperated sigh. “I just want to see your call log.”

Emma eyed Julia suspiciously and silently marvelled at how she always looked so perfectly turned out. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch Julia’s trademark blonde chignon bun. “Why?”

Julia groaned in frustration. “This isn’t twenty questions, Emma. I want to see your call log to see if James called you on Monday the second while we were at the hospital.”

“Why would James call me?” Emma asked with a frown as she acquiesced to the demand, unlocked her phone, and opened her call log. “He’s never called me.”

“He said he kept phoning you and that it was going straight to voicemail.”

Emma passed the phone over and crossed her arms as she waited for Julia to satisfy her own curiosity. “Julia, I promise you, James has never called me. Ever.”

Julia accepted the iPhone and scrolled through the list of made and received calls.

Ben
Ben
Ben
Ben
Ben
Ben
Marion
Ben
P
Mum
Ben
Work
P
P
Ben
Ben

There was nothing out of the ordinary, not that Julia noticed anyway, and a horrible feeling of unease settled like a bowling ball in her stomach. It was just as she had suspected – James had lied. She handed the phone back to Emma and tried to quell the fury rising within. “I thought as much.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

M&S Café,
St. George’s Hospital, London

Sat at a small table near the entrance of the chain café, Jasmine Atkins stared into the darkness of her coffee, lost in her thoughts. Her fiancé, Nick Harrington Jones, was now awake, and although he had seemingly come through his ordeal miraculously unscathed, his short-term memory was proving problematic.

“Mind if I join you?”

The deep voice startled her. Jasmine looked up to see Doctor Carter standing there with a snack in one hand and a takeaway cup of coffee in the other. His friendly smile made her do the same.

“Of course, please.” She gestured to the empty chair opposite.

Doctor Carter settled in with an overexaggerated sigh. “Just about to start my shift,” he said as if feeling like he needed to explain while he placed his snack – hidden in a black paper bag – down on the table before taking a sip of coffee. “How’s our patient today?”

Jasmine nodded and traced the rim of her mug with her finger, glancing back at him with a soft smile. “Good. He was awake again not twenty minutes ago.”

“That’s good. And is he remembering any more?”

“No.”

Doctor Carter offered a reassuring smile. “That will come in time, hopefully. Just keep up the memory exercises; they’re really important.”

Jasmine nodded in silent promise, and her gaze moved back to her mug of nearly finished coffee. Ever since she had witnessed the awkward encounter between her father, Ed, and Doctor Carter, Jasmine couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to their relationship than the feeble answer her father had given. For days she had tried to piece together what drew Ed and Lewis together, and she smiled, still finding it weird that she knew the doctor’s first name.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked, looking back at the handsome 30-something doctor from under her brow.

Doctor Carter removed a chocolate muffin from the black paper bag, peeled back the patty pan and took a bite. “Of course.”

“How do you and my dad really know each other?”

Doctor Carter stopped mid-chew. He didn’t even blink. He just sat frozen, looking back at Jasmine like some weird statue.

From his reaction, Jasmine knew her instincts were correct. “I don’t believe that story from the other day. I know he’s lying. I can see it in his eyes, just like I can see the panic in yours right now.”

Doctor Carter finally swallowed and returned the muffin – now missing a sizeable chunk – to the table. He wiped the corners of his mouth with an index finger and a thumb, took a gulp of steaming coffee, licked his lips, and looked back at Jasmine.

“I think you’d best ask your dad about that.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Starling Cottage,
Glendale

Rebecca sat on the edge of the queen-size bed, buttoning up her green silk blouse as a satisfied smile danced across her face. “Well, that was a surprise,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at her ex-husband. “You’ve certainly picked up a new trick or two.”

On the opposite side of the bed, Ben sat with his back to Rebecca, and his shoulders sagged as an overwhelming sense of regret consumed him. He suddenly felt very sober, and, as his thoughts turned to Emma, he was wracked with guilt.

“This was a mistake,” he said as he got up from the bed and collected his clothes that lay strewn around the room – hastily discarded in a moment of feverish passion.

Rebecca admired Ben’s naked physique for a moment. “Geez, you really know how to make a girl feel special!”

Ben pulled on his underwear and then his jeans. He zipped up the fly, buckled his belt tightly, yanked his black t-shirt down over his head, and jammed on his shoes, all the while unable to look in Rebecca’s direction. “I… I can’t believe I did this! I’ve gotta go!”

Before she had a chance to respond, Rebecca watched as Ben hurried out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

HM Prison Chelmsford,
Chelmsford, Essex

Under a baby blue sky, scattered with clouds that looked like white cotton wool, the heavy wooden doors of Chelmsford Prison creaked open. A broad figure, dressed in a black cotton hoodie, charcoal grey cuffed joggers, and carrying a black duffle bag, passed through the gates and stepped into the daylight.

Freedom.

The man paused, taking in the sights of busy Springfield Road. Cars whizzed by, and an Essex bus, with its distinctive purple and pink livery, pulled into a bus stop a few feet away. The normalcy of the sunny Friday afternoon was jarring against the regimented hell he had just left behind. For 16 years he had dreamt of freedom, and now he finally had it. But he didn’t plan to celebrate or turn over a new leaf. No, not by a long shot. He planned to get justice, to seek out those who had wronged him and had him sent down for a crime he didn’t commit.

A slow, predatory smile crept across the man’s lips. While the villagers of Glendale may have moved on with life, he had had 16 years to plot and plan, and now that he was free, he wanted revenge. Soon everyone in Glendale would come face to face with the man that haunted their dreams – Luke Kennedy.

NEXT TIME, IN THE SEASON FINALE…

• Secrets explode.
• Arrivals rock the village.
• Lives are left hanging in the balance.
• Three simple words change everything.