'I've got to get my tools,' Cam said and went out of the front door. Gwen didn't blame him.

'Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea?' Gwen ushered Patrick to the dining room. She was d.a.m.ned if he was sitting in her lovely kitchen.

'I can't stop, really. Just wanted to welcome you and to see if there was anything ...' Patrick trailed off as he took in the mausoleum chic of the dining room. He turned on his heel. 'Did you say your boiler wasn't working? Can I help with that?'

'I don't know. Can you?' Gwen was nonplussed. She had the feeling that Patrick wasn't the kind of person who offered favours out of the goodness of his heart.

'I have a man for that sort of thing.' Patrick took a business card from his wallet. 'Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.' He looked deeply into Gwen's eyes as he said this. Probably something he'd learned on a management training day.

Once Patrick was safely off the premises, Gwen fetched painting supplies from the shed. She felt itchy, like she needed to take some control back and show Iris who was boss in the house. Painting over the horrible purple walls seemed like a good place to start. She spread dustsheets over the furniture in the living room until the place looked like it was filled with snowy hillocks.

'What on earth are you doing?'

Gwen turned to find Cam standing in the doorway, a metal toolbox in one hand. 'This room is oppressively horrid, so I'm brightening it up.' She waved a paintbrush.

'It's November.'

'I know what month it is,' Gwen said. 'I need to keep busy.'

'But you'll freeze. You'll need the window open for ventilation.'

'I'm already freezing.' Gwen gestured at her layers of clothing. 'And I appear to be surviving. So.'

Cam crossed the room and forced the sash window open a couple of inches. 'I hope you enjoy frostbite.'

'Not at all; that's why I want you to focus all of your admirable energy on my boiler.'

She'd barely started rollering the first wall when Cam called out. She went upstairs and met Cam coming the other way, his expression grim.

Gwen stopped. 'What?'

'Come and see,' Cam said.

Cam had taken the white casing off the front of the boiler and leaned it up against the open door of the cupboard.

'What?' Gwen began, then took a closer look.

A small plate that housed the electrics was bent outwards, deep sc.r.a.pe marks gouged into the metal and a tangle of wires hung out drunkenly. The copper pipework had been smashed almost completely flat and a couple of dials were cracked.

'I think I can see why it wouldn't relight for you,' Cam said.

Chapter 6.

Gwen went downstairs, trying to rub life back into her frozen hands. She stabbed the b.u.t.ton on the kettle and got down a couple of mugs. Cam walked in a moment later, slipping his phone into his pocket.

'Tea?'

'No, thanks.'

His expression made her body temperature drop another couple of degrees. 'What is it?'

'Was the boiler working when you moved in?'

'Yes. I think so.'

'Someone's really gone to town on it. Probably with a hammer. Do you have a hammer?'

'You think I hit my own boiler?' Gwen's brain seemed to be as frozen as her hands.

'No.' Cam shook his head. 'Harry wanted to know. If you had left one lying about your bedroom-' he paused, stuck on the word, then carried on, 'that could be a spur of the moment crime. But if the person brought it with them it was planned.'

'Does that make a difference?'

'Very much so. In court-' He broke off. 'Sit down.'

'Okay.' Gwen felt her legs wobble and hastily sat in the chair Cam had jumped up to offer. Last thing she wanted to do was collapse in front of him like a needy, useless lump.

'I've rung around, but no one can come out before tomorrow.' Cam looked almost murderous.

'I know,' Gwen said. 'I told you that.'

'It's not good enough,' Cam said.

'Well, this early cold snap-'

'So you'll have to come and stay with me tonight.'

'No,' Gwen said. She might have no choice about staying in Pendleford for a few months, but she had not come back to her home town to play the damsel in distress. She was a grown-up, an independent woman and she did not need charity from anybody. Especially not Cameron Laing.

'I'll sleep on the sofa,' Cam continued, ignoring her. 'We should probably go now. I've told Harry we'll be there when he comes off shift. You can give him your house key and he'll swing by and take a look'

'I'm not leaving,' Gwen said.

Cam gave her a disgusted look. 'You're being ridiculous. What about your sister? Can't you go and stay with her for a couple of days?'

'No,' Gwen said. She didn't elaborate. Cam already thought she was unstable; there was no need to tell him that she was fighting with the only family she had left.

'I'm not deserting this house just because it's a bit chilly.' Gwen stood up to make her tea. She told herself that she felt strong. She was an independent woman. Self-reliant.

'It's freezing,' Cam said, his voice reasonable. 'And it's going to get worse. They forecast minus ten tonight.'

'Who's they?'

'Google.'

'Oh, well then, if Saint Google says so.' Gwen was hoping to make him smile, but nothing doing.

'It's not funny,' he said.

'There's an oil heater in the outbuilding, I'll bring that in. I've got hot water bottles and plenty of blankets. I'll go to bed early and keep warm. I'll be fine. Honestly, you don't need to worry.' As she rea.s.sured him just how fine she was going to be, a place opened up inside Gwen, reminding her that someone had broken into the house last night. She tried not to think about the quiet road and the long, dark path that led to her house. She tried not to see the single light at her window, shining out in the night like an invitation. She'd put on more lights; that was all that was needed. Maybe make a couple of silhouettes of well-built men and move them around the house with her.

Cam had pulled out his phone and was fiddling with the b.u.t.tons. He spoke without looking up. 'I'll stay with you then.'

'You don't have to do that,' Gwen said automatically, ignoring the tiny voice that said: yes, please.

'I'm not leaving you on your own.' The door to the living room banged open in a gust of wind. Cam frowned and went to close it. 'You'll probably start digging the garden or replacing the windows or something.'

'Very funny.' Gwen wrapped her hands around the mug and tried not to feel irritated. It would be nice to think that he cared. If only he could stop being so officious, she might even be able to convince herself that she was something other than another problem to solve.

Cam called Harry back while Gwen lugged the oil heater from the outhouse and set it up in her bedroom.

Cam appeared in the doorway, just as she was checking it worked.

He leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms, staring at the bed. 'Sure you've got enough blankets there?'

'Ha ha,' Gwen said to stop herself from offering him a test run. 'And the heater works. I'll be completely fine.'

Cam hesitated.

'I've got new locks. I'll keep my mobile with me. You don't need to worry.'

He followed her downstairs and Gwen wondered whether he was going to leave right away.

'I need a drink,' Cam said, running a hand through his hair.

'I've got Southern Comfort.'

Cam pulled a face.

'Fussy boy. How about red wine?'

Gwen opened the bottle and poured two gla.s.ses. Nothing seemed real. Someone had got into her house and messed up her heating. Deliberately. She'd only been back in Pendleford for a week and someone already hated her that much. She took a gulp from her gla.s.s and handed the other to Cam.

'Shall we stay in here? I think it's the warmest room at the moment.'

Cam shrugged. He took a sip of his wine and pulled a face.

'Cheap stuff, I'm afraid,' Gwen said, then felt irritated for apologising. She fiddled with her thumb ring, twisting it round and round. 'Why do I get the feeling you're annoyed with me?'

'Well, you're the one insisting you stay in this house on your own. It would be much better-'

'Not just about that. You always seem as if you're angry, but you're trying not to show it.'

'Do I?' Cam's forehead creased. After a moment he said, 'I don't feel angry. Sorry.'

'Because if you are, I'd understand, but I'd much rather we had it out and you said whatever it is you're trying not to say.'

'I'm not hiding anything,' Cam said, but he didn't meet her eyes.

Gwen decided to just say it. Get it out there. 'I've told you I'm sorry about how I left things. Before.'

Cam's expression went blank. 'Ancient history,' he said.

'Water under the bridge,' Gwen said.

'And it's done.' Cam shrugged. 'No point crying over spilt milk.'

'Look before you leap.'

'What?'

'Sorry. I thought we were trading cliches.'

There was a short silence, then Cam said, 'How's the living room looking?'

Gwen shook her head. 'Not good.' She showed him the one wall she'd painted. The purple had turned the white grey and was seeping through in patches, giving it a scabrous look.

'I think you're going to need another coat.'

'Or a flamethrower,' Gwen said. 'At least it's not as bad as the dining room.'

'That's worse?'

'Look.' Gwen threw open the door and let Cam behold the hideous wallpaper, the cracked ceiling. 'Ruby says it's unsafe.'

'Nah. That's just cosmetic. It's fine.' He looked around. 'The wallpaper, however, is psychotic.'

He clinked his gla.s.s against hers and they drank. Nothing like alcohol to make everything seem more manageable. Of course, alcohol had always led to one thing with Cam, but then, back in the day, anything and everything had always led to one thing. She took another sip, the glow in her stomach spreading warmth and battling with the cool, damp misery of the dining room.

'I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye.' The words popped out before she could stop them.

Cam went still.

'I couldn't.' Gwen kept her gaze locked on the red liquid sloshing slightly in the gla.s.s. 'If I'd seen you. Or spoken to you even, I wouldn't have been able to go and I really thought I had to.'

She heard movement and then Cam was right next to her. Her skin was tingling and she could swear that there was electricity jumping across the tiny s.p.a.ce between them. She kept completely still, willing him to move closer, to put his arm around her. To say 'hey, babe' in the way he'd used to.

He cleared his throat. 'I tried to find you. After you left. I spoke to your mother, but she wasn't any help.'

Gwen could imagine. She and Gloria had been arguing pretty much solidly at that time. Gloria was probably frightened that Cam would bring her home.