Tess has replayed the sequence of events in her head dozens of times. ‘He left for the States two weeks ago, went early in the morning in a taxi. And then he rang me from the airport, I was half asleep and a bit groggy, you know? He said he had lost his phone, and must have dropped it in the house or the street outside and would I go and look for it. I was still in my PJs so I looked downstairs and couldn’t see it anywhere, and he was really odd about it. Just told me to leave it.’

‘It doesn’t sound that odd . . .’

Tess studies the squares again. ‘And after that a man turned up on the doorstep and said he had a phone and he thought it might be mine. I couldn’t work out how he knew to come to the house and then I saw the black cab in the street and twigged that he was the taxi driver from the airport run. He said that a small child had found the phone down the side of the seat and had made a bit of a mess of the cover and he was really sorry. I said thank you and took it into the house. And after a bit it pinged, and there was a message. It said, “I will tell her if you don’t” and it was signed with a kiss.’

‘That doesn’t sound good. No idea who it was from?’

‘Just a number. An international one. And then Patrick rang back a bit later and asked if the phone had turned up. He was upset because it was a new one and the software was telling him it was either in the house or in the garden. I made a pretty theatrical show of opening and closing squeaky doors in the house before going outside. It was pissing down with rain and my slippers got soaked in a huge puddle.’

Fiona risks a smile.