‘The two of you work together, where did you say you were going?’

He frowned as if the question was stupid. ‘I told her I was coming to see you.’

‘Really?’

‘We don’t keep secrets from each other.’

As soon as he said it he looked sheepish. He and Fiona sure as hell kept their affair secret when he was still married to Jenny. He lifted his Stella to his lips to cover his embarrassment.

She couldn’t help it. ‘That must be nice for the two of you.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything.’

She drank her gin, ice clacking against her teeth, the lime sharp on her lips. ‘And why did you say you were coming to see me?’

‘To say sorry. I was a dick on the phone the other night. You and Hannah are going through a hard time, I should’ve been more supportive.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I think it’s great you’re helping Dorothy, she must love having you close.’

‘I hope so.’

‘How is she coping?’157

The truth was Jenny didn’t know how her mum was coping. The business with the money and Dad’s lies, and the Lawrence woman, what was that? A diversion, something to focus on that wasn’t Jim’s death, or was it a real mystery to be solved? And the Glassman case, just another diversion? Maybe life is just a succession of diversion tactics, moments to keep you busy, stop you thinking about the big stuff. But death brings the big stuff into focus.

‘She’s OK, considering.’

‘And you?’

‘Fine.’

‘And Hannah?’

Jenny spotted two women Hannah’s age at a nearby table. They looked Scandinavian, good bone structure, blonde hair, tanned skin. She was aware Craig hadn’t looked at them, not even a glance. Was he deliberately not looking or had he really not noticed? She was annoyed at herself for noticing he hadn’t noticed, which made her smile.

‘Hannah is more sorted than any of us,’ she said.

‘True dat.’ Craig’s tone was self-mocking, using a phrase too young for him. There was so much history between Craig and Jenny, so many in-jokes, insignificant knowledge that no one else shared with her. That was the worst thing about divorce, not the separation or loneliness or stepping back into the putrid swamp of dating, but the little shared quirks and foibles, the things that only one other person knew about you, the stuff that would be gone when you both died. She thought ‘like tears in rain’, just like Rutger Hauer at the end of Bladerunner, and she knew Craig would get that reference because they watched that movie lying in bed post-sex, eating chow mein, drinking some dreadful schnapps they’d picked up somewhere, quoting lines to each other and marvelling over Daryl Hannah’s hair and that other actor’s pockmarked face.