‘Thank you,’ Suzy said. ‘Thank you very much.’

10

KATE WAS RELIEVED that the house was still empty when she got home, the children having not yet returned from Cornwall with Rose and Simon. The respite she’d felt during the meeting at Chevening receded with the onset of fatigue, and the energy drained from her once more. She put on the kettle to make a cup of tea, then thought better of it and poured herself an enormous glass of white wine instead.

She sat at the table to drink it, wondering if this was what being an alcoholic felt like. She looked at Nelson, quite possibly the laziest beagle she had ever come across, gazing up at her without much enthusiasm from his basket in the corner. She got down on her hands and knees to rub his head and scratch his tummy, then lay flat so that she could put her head alongside his in the basket. He didn’t much like to travel, these days, so she relied on a neighbour to look after him when she and the children were away.

Good God, his breath smelt. Perhaps that was what old age did to you. She shifted position so that her head was resting on his back instead and closed her eyes. It wasn’t exactly comfortable on the tiled floor, but she was as likely to get to sleep there as anywhere else.

She lay there until the smell of him got too much, then stood and walked through to the living room. She switched on the TV and channel-surfed for a few minutes.

She’d managed an entire vacuous half-hour watching Game of Thrones before the doorbell rang. She glanced through the keyhole to check that it was Fiona and Gus, no doubt having forgotten their keys, only to see Imogen Conrad standing there.

Damn, Kate thought. The very last thing she needed. Was the woman stark, staring mad? She waited, pretending no one was in and hoping her unwanted guest would get the message and turn away.

Fat chance. The bell rang again. Kate gritted her teeth, opened the door and smiled. She was determined not to give her former friend the satisfaction of seeing just how much hurt she’d caused.

When she was talking politics, Imogen rarely drew breath, and Kate could tell tonight was going to be no exception. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, as she marched through the kitchen to the living room beyond. ‘Oh, God, wine on a Sunday night. I shouldn’t . . .’

Kate hadn’t been intending to offer, but she filled a glass more or less to the top, since she’d long ago learnt that Imogen really did like to drink, and returned to the living room. ‘Game of Thrones?’ Imogen said, looking at the screen, paused on a dragon in flight.

‘Better late than never.’

‘I couldn’t watch. Too much violence and all the energetic sex just reminded me of what I miss with Harry.’ Imogen took a large sip of her wine. ‘Too much information?’