‘As I said, at this stage of the inquiry we’re examining a number of lines of inquiry and haven’t ruled out the possibility the killer was a female. However, given the extent and nature of Ms Taylor’s injuries, we do know the killer would have had significant body strength. We also know that she’d recently begun a relationship with an unidentified male who has yet to make himself known to us.’

The policeman continued speaking, but my eyes were transfixed on the now still image of my friend, smiling at the camera, not knowing what had been lying in front of her. It took me back to the last time I’d spoken to her and just how happy she’d sounded. She couldn’t have had any idea of what kind of a man he’d turn out to be. What he’d do to her. The death he’d give her.

I shuddered, thankful in that moment for a safe and boring life. Paul and I may not be madly in love with each other any more – truth was, I wasn’t even sure we were in love with each other at all any more – but we knew we were safe together. We had our girls to hold on to. We had our perfectly nice life in our perfectly nice house with our perfectly nice jobs. Surely there was something to be said for that?

I glanced at my phone again. Still no reply from Michael. He was probably hurt at my reaction. I doubt it was what he’d have expected. I chewed on my thumbnail, looked at the flowers on the table. I thought of how I’d felt with him on Wednesday night – the delicious thrill that came with breaking the rules. The eroticism of touching someone new for the first time. Of hearing how he moaned and sighed as we’d had sex. How he sounded different to Paul. How he’d felt different to Paul. How the newness of him was an all-encompassing assault on my senses.

But it was more than that, surely. It wasn’t just sex – after all, we’d only just, after two months of meeting in secret, gone to bed together. It was the newness of the relationship. The friendship. It was how he looked at me and didn’t see, above all else, a mother and a wife and a tired housekeeper. He didn’t see me and remember the figure I used to have, or that my breasts used to be firmer, my hips neater. He saw me as the person I was – and without any of the ties of time and duty, he still wanted me.