‘I thought Fran might want to talk to somebody,’ she says, her dirty trainer still wedged on the doorframe. I don’t think I’ll be able to get rid of her, and I don’t have the energy to fight with anyone else today. I sigh and pull the door open a fraction.

‘It’s really not a good time. Things are . . . fraught at the moment.’

‘There’s never a good time, not when something like this has happened.’ Ruth gives me a sympathetic smile and steps past me into the hallway before I can react. She follows me through into the kitchen, and I can feel her eyes running over everything, peering into the living room before we reach the kitchen door.

‘Who . . .?’ Fran looks startled when she sees Ruth standing beside me.

‘This is Ruth,’ I say cautiously, not sure if Fran is about to launch herself at me again. ‘She brought you a casserole.’ I lift the heavy dish slightly in Fran’s direction before placing it on the counter.

‘Oh, isn’t that lovely of you?’ Kelly flashes a quick smile at Ruth. ‘Are you a friend of Anna’s?’ She looks between the two of us, a slight frown creasing her brow, probably wondering why Ruth hasn’t appeared on her radar yet.

‘My daughter was at Oxbury Primary – Laurel’s school,’ Ruth says, ‘I’m on the PTA. How are you, Fran?’ She turns her pale, limpid gaze to Fran.

‘How do you think?’ Fran says, before dabbing at her nose with a tissue. I don’t see any sign that she recognises Ruth at all. ‘I’m sorry, it’s a terribly difficult time for us.’

‘I understand.’ Ruth’s eyes fill with tears, and I think that maybe she knew Laurel better than I realised. Or maybe she’s thinking that it could have been her daughter instead. ‘I just want you to know, I’m here if you need me, Fran. OK?’ She grasps Fran’s hand earnestly, pulling it towards her.

‘Yes. Of course.’ Fran frowns as she gently tugs her hand free. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anything at all, you know? This is my number.’ Ruth pulls a ragged piece of paper from her back pocket. ‘I’ll come by tomorrow and bring you another dinner. Lasagne, OK?’

‘Thank you,’ Kelly comes round and gently guides Ruth towards the door, ‘it’s so very much appreciated, but we’re waiting for a phone call. We’ll see you tomorrow?’ I hear her still murmuring to Ruth as they head towards the front door.

‘That was nice of her,’ I say to Fran, anxiously waiting to see her response, to see if she is still terribly angry with me.