I stared at her in astonishment. ‘You did that for me?’ I whispered.

‘I did it for us.’ She closed an elegant fist and placed it firmly on her heart. ‘For other women like us. Women who suffer. On account of … And don’t forget, you didn’t do something, you just did nothing. That is very different, in my book. I wish I could do nothing and Lars would die.’

She picked up a packet of Vogue cigarettes and lit one with a gold Ronson lighter. She snapped the lighter shut and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. She regarded me coolly. I couldn’t speak. After a moment, she got up and made some mint tea. She put a white china cup in front of me.

‘Thank you,’ I said quietly.

‘What for?’

‘For protecting me.’

‘I wasn’t protecting you, it’s what I saw.’ She looked at me keenly. ‘I spoke to the police on the record. They came again yesterday. I was far more scared. Wasn’t full of rage and adrenalin. But I stuck to my story. Except, of course, it’s not a story. It’s what I saw. I’m scarcely going to lie twice, am I? Scarcely going to falsify evidence?’

‘No,’ I breathed quickly. ‘No, of course not.’ I gazed at her, amazed. She was much braver than I was. Much stronger. She was quietly sipping her tea. Smoking her cigarette. How scary that must have been yesterday: forced to back up her story. But she’d done it. Stuck to her guns. I found her remarkable. And admirable. Her composure. Everything about her. She was gazing beyond me now, deep in thought, and I moved my eyes from her face and looked beyond her too. I was facing her garden. It was beautiful, full of plants I liked, albeit more formal. Small box hedges, alliums, a grey slate terrace, white walls. At the end was the dividing wall. Above it, the sloping roof of my house, a storey lower than hers. The house next door to Ingrid’s was a nursery school. It was empty at night. The other neighbour, I could see, had a tall line of conifers: Leylandii. They would afford complete privacy. She would be the only one with any sort of view. I wondered what else she’d seen, over the years. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. My eyes came back to her. She looked much younger than I remembered. Softer. No make-up, I realized.

‘You’re different to when I first met you,’ I said uncertainly.

She came back to me and gave a wry smile, remembering. ‘I was nervous. At your club. I got there horribly early, I remember.’

‘Oh … I didn’t realize …’ Nervous.