Shaz nodded. “She’d have to have a heart of stone not to be upset. She’ll feel guilty too, probably. You know, all that, ‘if we hadn’t split up, it would never have happened,’ business.”

“Yeah.” Lindsay sighed. “She’s not one of my favorite people, but if she’s feeling a fraction of what I felt about Frances, then my heart goes out to her.”

Before they could say more, there was a disturbance behind them. A familiar voice floated through the door, focusing every drinker’s attention on the speaker. “Will you for God’s sake leave me alone, Tom? I’m not a piece of bloody china,” Laura Craig was shaking off Tom Jack’s protective arm and stalking into the bar.

“But Laura, you shouldn’t be left alone, you’re in shock.” For once, thought Lindsay, he actually sounded sincerely concerned.

“Tom, piss off,” Laura said slowly and clearly. “Watch my lips. I want to be alone.” She sounded more like Margaret Thatcher than Greta Garbo.

Tom Jack stepped back. There was no mistaking the determination and anger in Laura’s voice. He put his hands up at chest level, palms towards Laura. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be through in the lounge if you want me.”

She watched him leave before turning back towards the bar, face set in a hard, expressionless mask. Shaz leaned forward to say softly, “Sounds like your sympathy might be a bit misplaced.”

Lindsay shook her head. “She’s in shock, like Tom said. Grief does funny things to you.”

When she realized who her companions at the bar were, Laura sighed in exasperation. “Oh God,” she said. “Is there no peace in this bloody town?” Lindsay opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, Laura said sharply, “Don’t say it. Don’t for God’s sake say you’re sorry. Is anyone serving here?” she demanded, turning to the barman. “Good. Give me a very large vodka and ginger beer. When I say very large, I mean four.” The barman took one look at her face, decided not to comment and scuttled off towards his optics.

Lindsay moved towards Laura and said, “Laura, I know what it’s like. After Frances died, I sometimes felt it was only the anger holding me together.”

Laura shook her head, as if to clear the vision. “That’s what comes next, is it? People giving me permission for my emotions?” Lindsay felt as if she’d been smacked in the face, but tried to subdue her reaction. When Laura’s drink came, she swallowed half of it in one. As the alcohol hit, her shoulders straightened.

A BBC radio producer chose that moment to come over and put his arm round her. “Laura, love, we’re all so very, very sorry,” he said.