Her phone buzzed and, for a surprising moment, her heart skipped at the thought it might be Stuart. Ian’s declaration of love for Julie had reminded her of the early days of Stuart’s courtship at Cambridge, when he had refused to take no for an answer. But it was C: One p.m. at Grumbles restaurant, Pimlico.

It wasn’t a request, much less an invitation. He could be Olympian in his detachment, though as he nursed his wife in her death throes he had more than excuse enough.

Kate slipped the phone into her pocket. Why had she thought it might be Stuart? And why had her heart skipped a beat at the prospect?

Comfortable, comforting Stuart: she was conscious again of missing him and the steady to and fro of everyday domestic interaction. But it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Why had he thrown all that away for a few nights in bed with Imogen Conrad? For the rest of her days that would make her feel about two feet tall.

16

16

IT WAS THE kind of instinct born of long experience, but it took Kate some time to be sure.

She walked on up Belgrave Road as planned and turned into Churton Street. She passed the blue awning of Grumbles and carried on towards C’s house in Churton Place. It was bright now, the sky a clear and vivid blue. The customers of a café called the Roasting were sitting at small metal tables outside, their faces turned towards the sun.

Kate stopped at a flower shop just beyond it and lost herself in there for a moment or two, as if killing time.

She emerged again and, without looking back, walked on beyond Churton Place and turned left into the street market in the pedestrian section. The vendors mostly sold food and she drifted past their stalls, picking up some vegetables and fruit to test their quality and bending closer to smell some of the cheese on the trestle at the end.

She quickened her pace, heading towards Victoria, but it took her until she was on the other side of the station to be absolutely sure she was right. She had come up the escalator to the small shopping mall on the first floor and now doubled back. Almost immediately – coming up on the opposite escalator – she saw the young Indian man in a grey T-shirt and leather jacket she had first spotted as she had turned from Lupus Street into Belgrave Road.

Kate went into WHSmith and bought a copy of The Times.

She walked across the station concourse, then swung quickly right on to Wilton Road. As she passed Rosa’s Thai Café – inexplicably another of C’s favourite local restaurants – she saw the girl with the green chinos and brown pumps.