The Fixer-Upper

Was Hannah's dream of a forever home with Matt about to come crashing down?

- Eirin Thompson

Matt! Hi!' He hadn't picked up, so Hannah was leaving him a voice message.

'As things are going well at Seacrest, I thought we could go out this weekend and do some shopping – flooring, maybe? And window blinds. A kitchen, even, if we're feeling brave. Conor's been nudging me, and I think he's worried we're hanging about for too long. So, if you could make it here on Friday evening, we could get cracking on Saturday. Let me know. ASAP, please.'

Hannah put her phone down on the caravan table and sighed. The message had been much chirpier than she truly felt. The renovation of Seacrest Cottage was moving forward at pace – that much was genuine – but she was permanently distracted by anxiety over whether Matt was cheating again.

Ten days ago, she had decided to confront him and drag the truth from him, whatever the cost. But she had chickened out – she didn't want to drive to Belfast to have a row in Matt's parents' place or some busy bar.

Anyway – what if her suspicions were unfounded? It wasn't as if she had any hard evidence. A three-word text from an unknown number – 'It isn't over.' That could have come from anyone – could have been a misdial, nothing to do with them. As for the hair on Matt's jacket – it was hardly conclusive. Lots of people had red hair.

Hannah found herself balancing her need for answers with the damage that would be done if she wrongly accused Matt, and so far it had seemed easier to bottle up her fears and try to carry on.

Rat-tat-tat! Someone was rapping on the caravan door.

Hannah jumped up. 'Conor! Sorry, I was daydreaming, as usual. Everything OK?'

'Pretty much. It's the plasterer – he's had to drop his van with the mechanic, so I'm popping over to Kilkeel to pick him up and bring him here. Just wanted to let you know.'

'OK. Thanks.'