‘Lucy, I’m not a psychologist either. But facing things and not running away is sometimes the best course of action. I take it you’ve already been questioned by the police?’

‘Yes,’ I whispered. But I only remembered it as a blur. Perhaps because I didn’t want to remember it. It had happened very soon after the event. After … the body … had gone. In the sitting room, wrapped in my dressing gown, which I’d been allowed to get from my bedroom. A few questions from a kindly policewoman. A younger one, beside her, taking notes. I remembered telling her I hadn’t woken at the noise of the break-in, because I’d been wearing earplugs, which I often did. Especially when I knew my husband was coming in late. So no, I hadn’t woken when he’d returned, or when the French windows had been forced. But then, later on, I’d stirred: and with some instinctive intuition that Michael wasn’t beside me, put an arm out to his side of the bed. Empty. I’d been puzzled. Then I’d gone downstairs. Seen him on the floor unconscious. Realized we’d been broken into. I’d called the emergency services. The policewoman had nodded. It had suddenly occurred to me, you see, that there’d be a time lag. Between me finding him, and ringing 999. I knew the pathologists would spot it. Estimate the time of death. And if, by chance, a neighbour, or a passer-by, had heard the break-in and reported the time, I needed a reason not to have woken. Plus, I did use earplugs occasionally. I even had some handy. When I’d gone up for my dressing gown, I’d slipped some into the pocket, with a trembling hand. Not that she’d asked to see. The policewoman. As I say, I don’t think about that interview much. In fact, this was the first time I’d let myself consider it, in detail, at all. Let alone speak of it. It had been airbrushed from my mind.

‘Lucy?’

I swam to the surface. It was a long way, though. I’d been far away. As I focused, I realized Josh was staring at me. I regrouped.

‘Sorry?’

‘I said, was there was an autopsy? A coroner’s report?’

‘Oh. Yes, there was,’ I said.

‘Which both concluded that there was no misadventure?’

‘Except for a shove in the chest and a fall, no.’

‘And no inquest.’

‘No.’

He nodded. Looked thoughtful. ‘Well then, I suggest you forget all about this. And I would block your sister-in-law on your phone. That way you’ll have no contact with her ever again.’