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thirty at the latest and she knew she should really ring Jeff to tell him she’d be late. But somehow she couldn’t face listening to a catalogue of domestic woes.
    She kept telling herself that Jeff was great with the kids and she couldn’t possibly survive the job without him. But there were times she needed to think, unencumbered by the realities of everyday life, of lost school-books and sibling squabbles. And now was one of those times.
    After draining a large glass of red wine she looked at Joe. ‘I’d better call Jeff and tell him I won’t be back for lunch.’
    â€˜Don’t feel too bad. It’s a while since we’ve been on the Sunday shift.’
    Emily tried to smile. Joe’s words hadn’t done anything to make her feel less of a rat. And the fact that she was sitting in one of Eborby’s historic city centre pubs, waiting for Sunday lunch with all the trimmings with a good looking colleague added to her weight of guilt.
    â€˜Can’t be helped,’ said Joe. ‘The Super wants this Barrington Jenks business dealt with at the highest level and apparently that means us. Another drink?’
    â€˜Thanks, Joe. I bloody need one.’
    When he’d gone to the bar she fished her phone out of her handbag and called home. Jeff didn’t sound pleased. Sarah was asking for her and he had to take the boys to football that afternoon which would mean dragging his reluctant daughter there too. Emily said she’d be back as soon as she could, careful to make no firm promises.
    Joe returned bearing drinks and the news that the food wouldn’t be long. Emily was glad because the smell from the kitchens was starting to tantalize her empty stomach. She’d tried to lose weight so many times but her hearty appetite was her greatest enemy, always waiting to tempt her like her own personal demon.
    When the dinners arrived the young waiter set the plates down in front of them with an exhortation to ‘enjoy’. Emily clasped her knife and fork and tucked in and it wasn’t until she was half way through that she looked up at Joe and noticed that he seemed a little preoccupied with a faraway look in his blue eyes.
    â€˜Something the matter?’ she said, her mouth still half full.
    He hadn’t intended to mention the letter he’d received but he suddenly felt a need to share his dilemma with someone. He took it from his pocket and pushed it over the table towards her. ‘This came in the post yesterday.’
    Emily put her knife and fork down and peered at the letter. ‘Who’s K?’
    â€˜I’ve no idea. I’ve been going through all the people I know but I can’t think . . .’
    Emily watched his face. ‘But you’ve got your suspicions?’
    He shook his head.
    â€˜Come on, Joe. You’re a lousy liar – must be all that time you spent in that Seminary.’ For some reason she could never forget that he had once started training to be a priest. Perhaps, she thought, it set him apart from all the other men she knew. Perhaps it intrigued her, although she would never have admitted it.
    He looked up at her. ‘If you must know the writing’s very like Kaitlin’s . . . my late wife’s.’
    Emily stared at him in silence for a few moments. The words had shocked her. She knew the bare bones of the story about how Joe had lost his wife but he never mentioned her. She had always assumed that her loss was something he’d rather forget.
    â€˜You think someone’s playing a joke? If they are, it’s a bloody unfunny one, if you ask me.’ She had been about to use the word cruel but on second thoughts that sounded a little overdramatic. ‘Are you going to keep the appointment?’
    â€˜Have you a better suggestion?’
    â€˜Do you want some moral support?’ She didn’t know why she offered but it seemed like the right thing to do.
    He