When Michael got back, things had seemed fine. Well, you know. Normal. Then one day, I was upstairs in my walk-in wardrobe, sorting out clothes for a friend who was having a charity sale at her house, and he came up and found me. He’d discovered my secret phone, in the cellar, in an old trunk, right at the bottom. He’d found the lawyer’s details. He’d hissed and snarled obscenities at me, circling me, spitting at me as I’d shrunk behind my clothes on hangers, right in the corner, until I was curled up and crouched down, my arms over my head. Then he’d gone, closed the door, and locked it. Yes, quite dark. The light switch was outside, you see, and he’d turned it off. Obviously he’d let me out later, and had even cooked supper that night. It was ready when I came down. Chicken in a creamy mushroom sauce. He’d turned the heating off upstairs so it was freezing, but downstairs, it was warm. We’d sat at the kitchen table which he’d laid with a cloth, flowers from the garden in my favourite jug, and he’d made conversation, to which I’d tried to respond. My phone, and the lawyer, weren’t mentioned. Towards the end of the meal, Michael started to talk about the children, in general terms, about their lives, but in a scary way. He said he might go and visit Imo, in America. Alone. Did she still live on the twelfth floor? I never rang the solicitor again and he never went to New York.

But that was then. And horrible though it was to realize now that Amanda had, in all probability, had her ear pressed to the door, and then been plotting to tip Michael off at the same time as laughing with Imo and me in the kitchen – this was now. Michael was dead. And something else she’d said, inadvertently, was far more pressing. Far more pertinent. I realized I needed to see something for myself, as an insurance policy. It hadn’t occurred to me, you see. Just hadn’t occurred. And it should have done. I needed to check. I turned the ignition, making sure I looked all around before I pulled out.

When Josh came to the door he looked, understandably, surprised. I made a hopeless gesture, throwing up my hands in the air and adopting an I’m-a-moron expression.

‘I’m so sorry. I’ve put my purse down somewhere. No idea where. I’m really sorry, but I’m having to retrace my steps. I’ve been back to the restaurant, and into a couple of shops; would you mind …?’

‘Oh no, not at all. Come in.’ He stood aside, feet still bare. ‘But I’m pretty sure it’s not here. I’d have spotted it.’

‘Well, that’s what I thought, but maybe when I went in the study …’