On top of all that, I’d always felt the pain in her leg, her limp, was somewhat of a penance. A reminder of her passenger that night, her best friend. One she didn’t want dulled. One she felt she deserved. If you’re wondering if the passenger survived, check the chapter numbers.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe the injury had gotten worse with age, and Katherine had finally succumbed to her doctor’s advice. Maybe it was excruciating in the cold weather, though Katherine had picked the resort herself; it seemed an odd choice if she was so afflicted. Maybe she had caved to pressure, probably from Andy (though Juliette clearing her throat when I awoke, forcing another pill out of her, sprung to mind) that the pills were essential for my injury, but she could still only bring herself to ration them out in the most conservative doses. If she’d had her way, she probably would have given me some breathing exercises instead. Lucy could have even sold her some essential oils, which I think are next on the list of independent businesses to pursue after Tupperware and cosmetics.

So I decided to be grateful for the slim ration I did get, swallowing the pill with a shot of used-to-be-hot chocolate and placing my mug on the bar on the way out. I was surprised to find Erin waiting for me in the foyer. The front door had been left open, and pebbles of ice skittered across the tiles.

‘I don’t know how to ask you this . . .’ she started, but more words disappeared before she could find them. She looked at her shoes. Wind tussled her hair. Then she looked back at me. Those atoms in the air changed. ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight.’

MY WIFE

CHAPTER 30

Erin’s whisper of my name floated down from above. The storm had reignited, and the tiny capsule of my chalet groaned as the weather squeezed it on all sides: it felt like we were in a submarine. I was on the couch, having given Erin the loft, and finally out of the bathrobe, into a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt from a band I didn’t listen to anymore. Erin’s request to stay with me had been borne out of loneliness and fear, not flirtation, and so there was never any expectation that I would head up the ladder with her. There are no sex scenes in this book.

‘I’m awake,’ I said.

There was a rustle from the loft as she, assumedly, rolled over. Her voice seemed minutely closer when she next spoke. ‘So, what do you think?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said honestly. ‘I can’t get this Black Tongue thing out of my head. This torture, it’s so distinctive. It would do well in a mystery novel.’