‘And yet, growing up, we’re always warned about men we don’t know, cautioned against walking home alone in the dark or taking a lift from a stranger. My God, it’s the same drill I’m giving my own daughters.’ She throws down her napkin with an angry little pout. ‘When, really, it’s the men we share our lives with – the men we share our beds with – who pose the real danger. We should be warning them about that.’

Afterwards, Evelyn drives Hilary home. The two of them are mostly silent in the car, the radio tuned to Lyric FM, some baroque choral music filling the space between them. Hilary has drunk too much and the food she has consumed sits uncomfortably in her stomach – a fat greasy lump lodged in her gut. As the car draws up alongside the kerb outside her house, she unclips her seatbelt, and says: ‘Will you come in for a coffee?’

To her relief, Evelyn says no, that she’d best get home. And yet Hilary can sense a lingering within her friend – a hesitation – and when she looks across to wish Evelyn goodnight, she catches the look her friend is giving her: watchful, probing.

‘You are all right, aren’t you?’ Evelyn asks.

‘Of course I am!’

‘It’s just I know how difficult it must be for you, with Anton being back.’

Hilary feels herself stiffen.

Evelyn seems nervous now, as if unsure whether to proceed with this line of questioning, but she continues nonetheless. ‘Years ago, I know that you were very unhappy. Things you said back then, the way you were … It seemed to me that he offered some sort of consolation. I know you were friends. It must be awkward for you now with him –’

‘It’s not awkward,’ Hilary says sharply.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘I don’t see him. I’ve had nothing to do with him since it happened.’

Evelyn’s eyes flicker over her face, as if searching for a chink in the veracity of her statements. ‘Haven’t you? I thought you had.’

‘No, Evelyn. You thought wrong.’ Words spoken coolly but firmly. A line drawn under it.

She thanks her friend for the lift, leans in to kiss Evelyn swiftly on the cheek, and then she is clack-clacking up the path in her high heels, inserting the key into the lock, and by the time she turns to wave, Hilary has recovered enough to have a smile of reassurance plastered across her features. Evelyn’s pale face shimmers behind the windscreen.

She bangs the door shut, leans against it for a moment, eyes closed, awash with regret.

Foolish woman! The things she’d admitted to back then. Loose thoughts aired aloud. She bangs her head lightly against the door, then pushes herself away. The house is quiet. It hums with a feeling of emptiness, the lights off in the rooms downstairs, no sign of Greg.