‘No.’ Her voice is thin and my heart breaks for her. ‘He’s a good man. He… he hasn’t done anything wrong.’ Her breath is shallow, her chest heaving, she’s trying not to cry and although part of me wants to sweep her into my arms and let her sob it out again, there’s an invisible barrier between us. Her stiff spine and closed expression keeping me at bay.

The clock ticks. The fridge hums.

‘Mel, if there’s anything—’

‘I really don’t want to talk about it right now.’ She shakes her head vehemently.

I’m hurt, frustrated that I’m not helping her, but I don’t let it show. This isn’t about me.

‘Okay. But whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you.’

‘Same.’ She changes the subject. ‘How are you anyway?’

‘Okay.’ But she knows me too well. Detects the lie because she follows it up with, ‘You don’t sound okay. What is it, Lucy?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I’ve known you for nearly fifty years. Don’t tell me nothing.’ Now she leans forward, squeezes my fingers, back to being the warm Mel I know and love.

‘Another time.’ I drain my drink. I wish I could tell her about finding the knickers but it isn’t fair to burden her with my problems when she has enough of her own.

‘Lucy, I… I’m not shutting you out, I just… I don’t…’ She takes a breath. ‘Please don’t feel you can’t talk to me if you need to because… you mean the world to me. You know that and I’d never purposefully…’ Her tears begin to fall again.

‘Mel, it’s fine. Honestly, I’m fine. It’s just…’ I’m reluctant to say it aloud because there has to be a rational explanation.

There has to be.

‘I found some knickers under the car seat, that’s all. Knickers that aren’t mine, pink and lacy.’ There isn’t anything else I can add.

‘How did they get there?’ Mel’s forehead creases.

‘I don’t know. They wouldn’t fit Aidan.’ I try a weak joke knowing it isn’t funny.

‘Perhaps they’re Hailey’s?’

‘Hailey’s?’ Surely not.

‘Connor borrowed the car that time to take her out, didn’t he?’

‘Yes but that was ages ago. We’ve cleaned it since then, had it valeted anyway, when it was at the garage for its MOT.’ As I say this a thought occurs to me, flooding me with relief. One of the young mechanics at the garage must have taken the Audi out when they had it, racing around town, pretending it was theirs. Impressing a pretty blonde who might wear knickers like these.

Before I can share this with Mel her phone begins to ring, Aidan’s name and number flashing on her screen.

She glances at me before accepting the call.