But no more. I watched, now, in the study, all these years later, still in my nightie, but with a coat over the top, as the ambulance crew picked up the stretcher. A blanket covered his face. The police and forensic teams had gone. They’d taken a while. All the blood samples and prints had been taken, the crime scene thoroughly trawled. It was getting light outside. The two women in high-vis jackets who’d been the first to get here walked the stretcher down the hall and through the front door to the road. I followed as far as the door. Saw them slide him into the back of the ambulance and shut the door firmly behind him. I watched as they drove off down the street. Disappeared around the corner. Yes, he was gone. Michael no more.

6

It was one of the things Melissa asked me, after the funeral. Why, when she knew I’d grown to hate him, did I mind about the women? Surely it had been better when he was with someone, his attitude more relaxed, slightly less angry. And a break from him, too. Why didn’t I just turn a blind eye, as she had with her husband? Until she’d cracked, of course, and told the whole street. Helena was with us at the time. We were in the pub, down the road from the church in Twickenham where we’d just buried Michael with his parents. When I’d paused, she didn’t butt in to answer for me as she normally would, because she knew the answer. Helena knew everything about me, irritatingly.

‘I think,’ I said, choosing my words carefully because I didn’t want them to impinge on my friend, ‘the crucial difference was you loved Dominic. Hoped it would all go away. Which is understandable. A lot of women do it. But I was very unhappy with Michael. So yes, you’d naturally assume I wouldn’t care.’ I felt my fists clench on the table. ‘But that felt like I was surrendering my entire life to him. All dignity. All semblance of a marriage. It would be like wearing a label saying – I don’t mind who he shags, because our marriage is over. And I had too much pride for that. I wasn’t going to sacrifice everything for him. Not when I’d given up so much else.’

Melissa looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, I get that,’ she said slowly.

‘Plus,’ I went on quietly, ‘I felt responsible for the mess I’d made. I felt I’d brought Michael into my family, that it was my fault. I felt shame, I suppose, that I’d let everyone down. So I did the one thing I could do. I got rid of his women. To make the whole thing less shabby.’

‘Shame is the last thing you should have felt,’ observed Melissa, squeezing my hand.