Later, when she had gone to catch her train, Paula took Titch to one side.

‘I don’t think you know what you are doing.’

Titch looked pained.

‘I don’t mean it isn’t good.’ Paula hesitated. She had no idea what she really wanted to say, let alone how to say it. But she was also certain she would say it. For all of her care, and professionalism, there was a little imp of envy inside her that Titch might have encroached on her world and by accident done something amazing. ‘I just mean these things are really delicate.’

‘What things?’

‘That girl.’ She hesitated again, and then she was on surer ground. She found what it was her mind had been circling round since she saw Rose. ‘She has no foreground. She has nothing to give her a sense of scale or perspective.’ Was that it? ‘And you have to be careful about yourself, too.’ That might be it. ‘You are putting yourself – and me – in a really odd position.’

Titch was annoyed. Paula knew she only heard the last sentence. ‘You needn’t worry. We’re taking good care of her.’

They had moved on. They stayed the rest of the weekend, and Rose wasn’t mentioned. But Paula knew the dynamic between them had shifted, and might shift further. On the train home, as the fields ticked past, she’d thought about Titch. About her hermetic little life. About the choices both of them had made and the thousand little failures they hid. She could see her sister-in-law, the warmth of her, and then, like the sun slipping behind a cloud, the chill.

The landscape deepened as they headed north. Forests rose and grew in front of her, and she felt the tangle of years around her heart.

‘Paula?’ says Andy.

In the garden, Paula blinks, smiles.

‘Let’s pretend we’re away,’ says Andy.

The thought of it is a cool hand on a hot brow. This is not how it needs to be. The autumn sun sends shafts of light through the dark trees. Maybe it might just all dissolve into nothing.

Paula leans forward, delicately poised. She puts a hand onto Andy’s groin. He smiles at her. They head inside.

By the time she gets out on her run it’s almost five. She has an hour of light, dimming towards dusk. She wears high vis, but even so, she’d rather go on the moors than the roads if she’s running the risk of being caught out in the dark. She’s less afraid of werewolves than of crap drivers. She has a tiny head torch in any case.

At her gate, Paula turns left. She runs fast. She feels the looseness of sex about her still, and the sweat starts quicker than she had expected in the cold air. She breathes in Andy with the mud of the track and the drying heather. It feels good that she can do this, have afternoon sex then go for a run. She’ll drink wine later, and sleep deeply.