‘I would love you to meet her, and this seems the perfect opportunity … that is, if I’m not keeping you from some other commitment …?’

Her first instinct was very quickly to invent another commitment. That was one of Carole Seddon’s great skills. She had lost count of the number of other commitments she had invented to hide the emptiness of her life.

But she stopped herself. Her second instinct was born of ingrained politeness. To refuse Adrian’s offer at that moment would be an act of appalling bad manners. ‘No, I’d be delighted to meet Gwyneth,’ she lied.

NINE

Adrian’s apology for the state of the house seemed unnecessary, even by Carole’s exacting standards. True, there were some unopened cardboard boxes in the hall, but otherwise the interior had been furnished and decorated to a very high spec. Of course, in characteristic Fethering style, Carole had known who the old couple who lived there previously were, but she hadn’t known them. One had died and the other gone into a care home, so she expected that the place had been left in something of a state. In fact, she remembered Adrian describing it as ‘a bit of a tip’. He and Gwyneth – or, more likely, given her lack of mobility, he – had been busy since they took over ownership. A residual smell of fresh paint confirmed Carole’s supposition.

All of the rails and other invalid aids that Adrian had mentioned on their previous meeting at Starbucks were in place. The garden path was levelled asphalt and there was an incline up to the front door. No handrails on the outside but plenty inside, suggesting that, though Gwyneth Greenford could drag her way round the house, all of her outside excursions were in the wheelchair.

As they entered, Adrian called out, ‘Gwyn, I’ve brought someone to meet you,’ and ushered Carole into the front sitting room.

The woman sitting in the armchair, with a folded wheelchair beside it, was younger than Carole had expected. She’d had the image of Adrian’s crippled wife as being his age, if not older, but Gwyneth Greenford was a good twenty years younger. She was dressed in smart-casual clothes, well-cut dark blue trousers and a silvery silk jumper. Her make-up was expertly done. Whatever her disability might be, there was no visible manifestation of it.

‘Oh, hello, Carole,’ said Gwyneth.