Chapter 40

“Criminal is such a harsh word.”

It took over an hour to pack up Amy’s clothes and collect together her other personal belongings. Will heaved the two suitcases he’d brought with him into the space behind the Audi’s seats and Amy put another suitcase of her own and two large holdalls into the Land Rover. Then she locked the house and stood by her car looking back at her former home. Will stepped beside her and put his arm around her waist. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

She didn’t answer straight away, but eventually nodded and said, “Yeah, I am. I really, really am.” She stepped away from him and smiled. “Come on, show me the way home.”

Since she’d only ever been a passenger before, Amy insisted on following Will back to Meadowview Cottage to be certain she knew the way. They dropped off her bags in the lounge.

“We’re going to need a new wardrobe to fit all this in,” Will said.

“Are you sure there’s room in our bedroom for another wardrobe?”

“I’ll make room,” said Will. “For you, I’ll make room. Hell, if I have to buy a bigger house to fit you in, then I will.”

She kissed his cheek. “I like this house just fine.”

They went into Westmouth for lunch at the Inn on Pier, where Will had eaten with Lizzie the day after the reunion. Amy insisted on driving them in her Land Rover. After lunch, they hit the shops. Amy was restrained and didn’t spend too long in any one store and after two pleasant hours, she’d only acquired three bags. She also wouldn’t let Will use his credit card. Throughout their marriage, Amy and John had maintained separate bank accounts as well as a joint account. They used the joint account to handle the household bills, but other than that they were financially independent. And whilst Amy currently didn’t have an income—assuming that John cut off her pay from working in the shop since she wasn’t working there anymore—she did have some savings.

After leaving Charlotte’s Secret with her fourth bag of the day, Amy asked Will if she could have ten minutes on her own.

“What for?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Can I have a clue?”

She thought for a second before saying, “Just that I know you’ll like it.” She pointed across the street.

“There’s a coffee shop over there. Go and have a drink and read the paper and I’ll come find you when I’m done. Ten minutes. Twenty at most.”

Will nodded, kissed her cheek and did as she’d instructed. He ordered coffee and an orange and lemon muffin, picked up a complimentary copy of The Times and settled down to wait. He hadn’t even finished reading the first paragraph of the main front page article when a deep voice he didn’t recognise asked, “Will Brown?”

He looked up. The question had come from a middle-aged man with grey flecked into his thick blonde hair. He wore a nicely cut brown suit and dark glasses.

“Who’s asking?”

The man took of his shades. “My name is Arthur Alsworth. May I?” He gestured to the empty chair opposite Will. Will nodded.

Alsworth sat and placed his mug of coffee on the table. “Mr Brown, I’m a business associate of John Nugent—”

“Whoa.” Will held up his hand. “Stop right there. The court order on Nugent doesn’t just prevent him from contacting Amy, but from asking anyone else to contact her either.”

“Quite true. I’ve seen the document.” In response to Will’s quizzical look, he continued, “I’m sort of a legal representative for the organisation that Mr Nugent is involved with. He had me look over the document for any ... shall we call them ‘loopholes’? Naturally, I couldn’t find any. Ms Clapton is shockingly good at her job. But, Mr Brown, I’m not attempting to contact Mrs Nugent. I want to contact you. I assume you allowed contact with yourself deliberately?”