three-hour drive from Kent to the Suffolk coast and, with each mile, Luke became more and more nervous. To drive across the country to tell a stranger that his wife had died and to give her an unexpected gift was the craziest mission he’d ever contemplated, and he was beginning to wish he’d simply sent a message via the Galleria site.

Don’t give up now, a little voice said, and he had the feeling that it wasn’t his inner voice but that of Helen.

Go and see her because I never did.

‘Okay,’ he said as he took a road which headed east, straight to the coastal village of Lorford, driving through deep forests and passing heathery heathland.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he arrived, but he drove down to the small quay and parked his van, getting out and stretching his legs and inhaling the fresh, salty air of the estuary. The water was wide and calm and a silvery blue. A few boats bobbed about on their moorings and a couple of waders ran up and down the pebbled shore and then out into a vast expanse of shining mud. It was a beautiful spot and he spent a moment drinking it in before returning to his van.

The centre of the village was easy to find. He simply followed a road leading from the quay which passed rows of tiny cottages. A gentle incline towards the church followed and he immediately recognised the round tower from the photos. He was definitely in the right place, he thought, looking around for his destination. Surely a castle shouldn’t be hard to find, he told himself, coming towards a small square around which sat a baker’s, a village store, an antiques shop and a pub. But no castle. He drove on, leaving the square and reaching a bend in the road, and then he saw it.

Set back from the road, it soared five storeys up into the glorious blue sky like a rectangular rocket. The pale golden stone was peppered with arrow-slit windows and larger arched ones which winked at him in the sunlight. At its centre, at the top of a steep flight of steps, was a large wooden door. The castle had obviously been built for defence rather than beauty and it puzzled Luke as to why BB, who had such an eye for the beautiful in life, had chosen to live in a rather unforgiving sort of building rather than one of the pretty cottages he’d seen in the heart of the village. Mind you, he had to admit that the castle was impressive. From the little he knew about castles, this looked like the keep; its curtain wall and the protective buildings which would once have surrounded it had long gone.

A wrought-iron gate stood across the driveway and he parked outside it, staring up in wonder at the building that greeted him. He couldn’t tell how many sides the building had, but it was at least five, which made it polygonal – a word that he loved. It was quite unlike any other building he’d ever seen.

‘Remarkable,’ he said to himself, getting out of the van and walking towards the gate. He expected to find some kind of intercom, but there wasn’t one. However, the gates weren’t locked so he opened them and walked up the driveway flanked by neat lawns. A hedge divided the garden and he caught a glimpse of a long greenhouse, a wooden shed and stunning flower borders. So she grew her own flowers for the arrangements she photographed, he thought. Helen would have loved to have seen this.

Reaching the steep steps at the foot of the castle, Luke paused, looking around in case somebody had spotted his arrival. It felt eerily quiet standing at the huge wooden door of the castle, and he turned back to look at the village, which suddenly seemed a long way away.

An old-fashioned bell with a rope hung outside the door and he pulled it now, wondering if it was loud enough to hear from inside. It probably wasn’t for humans, but it didn’t need to be because there was a dog inside who had no trouble hearing it. His loud barks made Luke realise he might be unwelcome. He really shouldn’t have come.

Don’t lose your courage now.

There was that voice again.

‘Helen?’ he whispered.

‘Who is it?’

It wasn’t Helen’s voice this time, but a woman’s on the other side of the castle door.

‘Hello,’ Luke called. ‘My name’s Luke. Luke Hansard. You’re friends with my wife, Helen.’

There was a pause.

‘I don’t know anyone called Helen.’

Luke frowned. He couldn’t have got the wrong place, could he? And then something occurred to him.

‘You know her as Trees and Dreams. On Galleria.’

‘Trees and Dreams?’

‘That’s right. She said you were good friends.’

‘We are.’

‘And I – I have something to tell you about her.’

‘What?’

Luke took a deep breath. ‘Look, I’d really rather not shout all this through a thick wooden door.’

There was another pause as he waited for the door to open. Only it didn’t.

‘I don’t see people.’

‘Pardon?’ Luke said, wondering if he’d heard her correctly.

‘I don’t see people,’ she repeated.

‘But I’ve come a long way,’ he told her.

‘Then I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted trip.’

Luke blinked. She really wasn’t going to open the door?

‘Please, I think you’ll want to hear this. I have something for you too. A gift from Helen.’

Only silence greeted him, and he couldn’t even tell if she was still on the other side of the door or if she’d walked away. He thought about ringing the bell again but decided not to. He hadn’t expected this, he thought, as he sat down on the cold stone doorstep of the castle. Why on earth wouldn’t she let him see her for just a moment? Some friend, he thought. If Helen really knew the truth, she’d likely change her mind about BB. But that was the problem with online friends, wasn’t it? It was easy enough to type a few messages to

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