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‘You know he was already mentioning kids? I was only twenty-five. I told him there was plenty of time and he said fine, but he didn’t want to wait too long.’

‘I suppose that would always have come up, my love.’

‘I know but it was one more thing for us to argue over. The differences were already in place. Not because of Matt’s accusation, though – which I’m still not sure was true.’

‘Matt would never intend to be vindictive. He meant well, I am sure. And he wasn’t in a good place.’

‘Are you defending him for what he did?’

‘No. Yes, I suppose so …’ Sybil said with a wistful sigh. ‘He is my godson and he is a good man. You know that deep down.’

‘Do I? I thought so.’ Zennor’s stomach tightened. ‘I never knew how vindictive he could be. He had no real evidence and Trev swore that the thing with the waitress wasn’t true, but it still corroded my trust in him.’ Zennor had never told anyone about the letter that Matt had sent after the wedding, which had only raised fresh doubts in Zennor’s mind.

Sybil was listening but saying nothing, allowing Zennor to air regrets and worries she’d kept buried.

‘I’m not sorry I split up with Trev because it didn’t work out long term and now I’ve done things I wouldn’t if I’d stayed with him. It’s just … now Matt’s back, I can’t help wondering how things might have been.’

‘With Trev or with Matt?’ Sybil asked.

Zennor was about to fire back a reply but Sybil’s expression, intense, questioning, probing, made her stop.

‘I think that’s a question best left unanswered.’

‘Shall we go back outside?’ Sybil asked, slipping the photos back in the packet. ‘Would you like to keep these? They really should be yours.’

‘Thank you,’ Zennor said. ‘They’re happy pictures and although Mum must have copies somewhere, I’m sure she’d love to look through them and reminisce. Especially if we were all together …’

‘I’m sure she would,’ Sybil murmured. ‘I’ll be out in a moment. I just need the loo. You take these.’

Zennor walked into the sunlight, the brightness making her blink repeatedly. Sybil eventually came back wearing sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat. Her words at the salon came back to Zennor.

‘I can give you some tips on playing a part. It’s much harder to pretend in life than on stage.’

‘Are you OK?’ Zennor asked.

‘OK? Of course I am.’ Her forehead furrowed. ‘What a curious question. Why do you ask?’

‘It’s only that … when I left you at the hairdresser’s, you seemed a bit – reflective.’

‘Reflective?’ Sybil chuckled. ‘That’s not a word I hear used very often these days and never in the Cut ’n’ Curl.’

‘You’re not ill, though?’

‘Ill? Me?’ Sybil scoffed and then her eyes gleamed. ‘I’m fit as a fiddle. And if you’re referring to the thing that happened a few years back, then I was assured last month at my annual check-up that I am free of the thing and one of the healthiest people they have ever seen – for my age, of course, as the impudent young doctor decided to add.’

Zennor laughed. ‘Sixty-two isn’t that old.’

‘Perhaps not to some people, but to others, it’s decrepit. The other day, I had a boy of eight ask me if I remembered Victorian times!’

Zennor burst out laughing with amusement and relief. ‘I hope you put him right.’

‘I was tempted to play along and say that I remembered trains and cars being invented but I – gently – corrected him. Not that he cared.’ She patted Zennor’s arm. ‘And if it makes you feel any better, if I sounded rather wistful at the hairdresser, it was only because I’d heard of a death and was reminded of my own mortality, as we often selfishly are when someone of a similar age dies.’

‘Oh, I am sorry. A close friend?’

‘An ex. We were close once, but it ended pretty acrimoniously – two thespian egos clashing. It’s not as if he was the love of my life, poor boy.’ She put on a brave smile.

‘Oh, Sybil. I’m so sorry. It’s still a shock.’