Joe Tate was having a very strange day. One minute he was on the phone to his brother, the next he'd come across a strange woman sitting in his kitchen. She was curled up next to the cupboards, her face streaked with tears.
"Hey."
Before Joe knew what was happening, the woman had thrown herself trustingly into his arms. She held on tight, sobs coming out in bursts. "Hey. It's OK. You're safe now."
Once the woman's tears had subsided, Joe pulled back and stood up before helping her to her feet. He led her over to the kitchen table, pulling out a stool for her to sit on.
"What's your name?" he asked, kneeling in front of her.
"Rebecca," she said uncertainly, then with more confidence, "Rebecca White."
White... He knew that name. Suddenly he knew exactly who she was. "You're Lawrence White's daughter, aren't you? I bought this place from him. He said he had two daughters..."
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes again. "I got a taxi from the hospital. I thought Dad would pay for it, when I got home. Then when I got inside I remembered he and Chrissie are..."
Joseph nodded, keeping his eyes on hers. "I read about the car crash in the paper. I'm sorry." She moved slightly, brushing her foot against him, and he realised she was barefoot, wearing a hospital gown underneath her coat. "Wait here. I'll get you some socks."
He quickly ran upstairs to his room and returned holding a pair of thick grey socks. "Can you put these on?" She didn't reply, her expression had gone vacant, so he bent down and pulled them on to her feet himself. Her skin was cold to the touch.
"We need to call someone. Do you have your phone with you?" She shook her head. He checked her coat pockets, but they were empty apart from a few pound coins. "I paid the taxi driver," she said helpfully.
Joe stood up, uncertain what to do. He wished Graham was here to deal with this. Should he call an ambulance? No, she seemed physically fine. He needed to call her relatives. But who was left?
"Do you have any family I can call?"
"My nephew Lucky," came the immediate reply.
Lucky? "Do you have his number?"
She shook her head again. He wondered if it was just the trauma of the crash that was making her act like this. He had a sudden flashback to his auntie Zoe, curled up under the table in the next room, her arms around Joseph, Jean and a baby Noah.
"Do you know where Lucky is?"
Rebecca thought for a moment. "He might be with Belle. His girlfriend."
Belle. Belle Dingle. Zak Dingle's daughter. Why did everything lead back to that family?
He had a sudden inspiration. "I know. I'll call the Woolpack." Everyone seemed to know each other in this inbred little village. If he called the pub someone there would be able to track down Rebecca's nephew.
Pulling his own phone out of his pocket, he Googled the Woolpack number and pressed call, hoping that a Dingle wouldn't answer. Fortunately Victoria Sugden picked up and once she heard that Rebecca was at Home Farm she promised she'd let Robert and Lachlan know immediately. Hanging up, Joe told Rebecca "It's OK. Someone's coming for you. Just sit tight."
While they waited, Joe put the kettle on and made them both a cup of tea, spooning extra sugar into Rebecca's cup. Returning to the table, he sat down opposite her and placed her tea in front of her, saying "Be careful, it's hot." After a minute of silence she picked her cup up and took a few small sips. He smiled at her as he drank his own tea.
"You're Joe Tate," she said suddenly, sounding calmer than she had so far.
"Yes."
"You were going out with Debbie."
He nodded. "Yes." He supposed the whole village knew about him throwing Debbie onto the street by now.
"You broke her heart." There was no judgement in her voice, she was just stating a fact.
"Yes."
"Why?" She sounded interested.
He put his tea down and thought about it. "I wanted revenge."
"On Debbie?"
"No. On Charity. She was married to my dad. We all lived here. Dad, Charity, me and Debbie. We were just kids then."
"What happened?"
"My dad found out that Charity was having an affair with Debbie's father, so he killed himself."
"Because of the affair?"
These questions were making him uncomfortable. "That wasn't the only reason."
"Do you feel better, now you've got your revenge?"
He thought about it. "No."
Rebecca shook her head, this time in reflection. "Revenge never does. I wanted revenge on Chrissie once. Now she's dead."
"I thought it would feel better." Joe didn't know why he was admitting this to a stranger. "I thought I'd feel better about Dad."
"Nothing can make losing your family better."
"No. Nothing can."
Suddenly Rebecca leaned forward towards Joe. Thinking she was going to cry again, he let her put her arms around his neck and then she brought up her face to his, pressing her lips against his own. Taken aback, he let her kiss him, wanting to respond, before sense kicked back in. "Rebecca." He pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently easing her away from him. "That's not a good idea."
"Why not?"
He didn't know where to start. He reached out to gently brush a stray tear from her face. "Let's just wait for your family to get here, okay?"
When she looked at him, her eyes had gone vacant again. "Who are you? Why are you in my house?"
Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door. Robert and Lachlan had arrived.
"Finish your tea," was all he could say.