She gave a sudden brief bark of laughter. ‘It wasn’t too bad though, now I come to think of it. The food was good – trust Millie to get the caterer just right. And the champagne was even better – bloody good vintage. I was beginning to pick up a bit of salacious gossip from some of her so-called “friends” at the do that she was making a bit of a fool of herself over a younger man,’ she added with a smile. ‘And I remember thinking to myself that I should congratulate her on living it up a little. But then, when he arrived …’ There was no mistaking who she meant, for her voice became like ice, and all three of her visitors felt a similar coldness crawl over their skin. The venom and hatred in her voice was so powerful and raw it was almost like another presence in the room with them.

Katherine shook her head and again gave that harsh, bitter bark of laughter that made Trudy feel like crying. It sounded so hopeless and lifeless.

‘I recognised him at once, of course. Not that he knew me,’ she informed them. ‘I attended Amy Jean’s inquest wearing this big floppy hat and enormous sunglasses so that the press vultures wouldn’t get a good likeness of me. And I wore the same thing about a month after my daughter died. I went to the place where she’d bought the car, you see – I just couldn’t help myself. I remembered how she’d laughed when she told me that a handsome young man had sold it to her, and I just wanted to see him for myself. Oh, I knew that it wasn’t healthy, but I just couldn’t stop myself.’

The artist sighed and shook her head. ‘It was a mistake, of course. I watched him on the forecourt, going about his business without a care in the world, and felt so impotent and so full of rage. What did it matter to him that a lovely young girl had died so young, just so long as he’d made his pieces of silver on the sale of that damned car?’ She looked out of the window, clearly battling tears. At last, she turned once more to face them. ‘I never went back there again,’ she said quietly. ‘I think, even then, I realised that it would be dangerous – both for him, and for me. Something deep inside told me that I was close to a deep and dark precipice, and I that I must never allow myself to look over it. So I forced myself to put him and his bloody cars out of my mind. It wasn’t easy, but I managed it.’