A Poison Tree (Time, Blood and Karma Book 3) by John Dolan

deep by years of chain-smoking, Jack still had something boyish about him.
    They ordered tea from the black-costumed waitress . Claire glanced around at the other patrons: two middle-aged ladies deep in conversation and a thin elderly man clad in tweed, his nose buried in a newspaper. No one was paying them any attention.
    “It’s an unexpected surprise to see you today,” said Jack , in an accent that betrayed his West Country origins.
    “I don’t know quite what I was thinking when I SMSed you. I just wanted to see you today.”
    “My good fortune,” he replied. “I was over at Kettering for a meeting about the estate development when I got your text, so I was in the area. Well, sort of.”
    “A meeting on a Saturday?”
    “Sometimes when you’re meeting a member of the Planning Committee, it’s best to do it outside of normal working hours and away from prying eyes.” He gave a roguish grin.
    “I don’t think I need to know about that.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    The waitress arrived with the tea, and they sat in silence for a while.
    Sometimes Jack reminds me so much of David , Claire thought. He has that same gentleness. Although David doesn’t have his quick temper. Or his tendency for skulduggery, for that matter.
    She wondered – and not for the first time – what on earth she was doing.
    “Where is Eleanor this afternoon?” she asked.
    Jack stirred with unease. “Some Church thing at St. Mark’s. I don’t know what exactly.”
    “You should take more of an interest in her church work, Jack.”
    “I suppose I should.”
    “Sorry. I’m not in a position to be giving you marital advice, am I?”
    “Perhaps not.” He touched her hand.
    “Where are you parked?”
    “Behind the Conservative Club.”
    “Let’s drink up . Later you can drop me back in town. I need to buy some things from the market.”
    “OK. Where do you want to go?”
    “Somewhere quiet.”
    “How about we drive over to Foxton Locks?”
    Claire shook her head. “Too public.”
    The place also held memories of times with David. Inappropriate. So much of what she thought and felt these days was inappropriate. So much of what she did was inappropriate. Guilt clung to her like a limpet. Yet here she was, regardless. She could not change course. She was waiting for something to happen, but she did not know what.
    “Then let’s just drive out into the countryside and find somewhere. Yes?”
    “Yes.”
    Jack drove west out of the town until he found a secluded country lane , out of sight from the main road. He switched off the engine, reached across and took Claire in his arms. She held him and stroked his hair.
    “Let’s sit in the back seat,” she said. “We’ll be more comfortable.”
    “Are you all right, Claire?” he asked, concerned.
    “Of course I am. I’m here with you .”
     
    When Jack dropped her off back in Market Harborough, the first spots of rain were starting to fall.
    Claire made her way around the market quickly. The muffled stallholders blew on their hands and stomped, determined to see out the hours, to chase down those last sales. They were a hardy bunch. Gusts of wind flicked the hanging plastic sheets. Money changed hands and disappeared into leather belt wallets. Organic produce, cake and homemade biscuits found their way into shopping bags. The clock on the church tower registered five o’clock and the sky darkened appreciably. The weather deities decided it was time for everyone to call it a day and volleys of water began to drench the shoppers.
    David would be home by now, or on his way home. Claire made one final purchase, a bottle of apple juice, and hurried back to her car.
    She looked at herself in the rear view mirror. The face was familiar but the eyes that stared back at her were those of a stranger. It was another Claire that sat in the car. A Claire that had secrets, that dwelled in a different world – a constricted world that contained only Jack and the potential of shameful