‘Believe,’ Tom urged her. ‘Visualise it breaking in two.’ Fran made a second attempt, and a third, and when the plank failed to split on her fourth attempt Tom stepped forward and softly said, ‘I think you may have an emotional blockage. We’ll work on shifting it during our one-to-one session tomorrow.’ Fran wasn’t sure that she wanted an emotional irrigation, but she was aware that Priyanka was jiggling around on the spot, desperate for her turn, so she nodded and said, ‘I’ll be sure to brace myself,’ and stepped aside.

Now, wedged between Phoenix and Damian, Fran dips her spoon into the leek and potato soup that Kate has served up and surreptitiously watches the other diners for any clue that they might be her mysterious note writer. Whoever wrote it addressed it to ‘Fran’, not Geraldine, so they know who she is. Maybe it was Kate. Other than cooking meals she’s been hovering around the group all day like a particularly irritating bluebottle. Could she be the mysterious note sender? Maybe Tom had sworn her to secrecy about Jenna’s death and the burden was too great to bear?

Fran’s gut instinct tells her that’s unlikely. If Kate had something she was desperate to share she’d had more than enough time to find a way to contact her. So, who is it? Peter the grumpy old git? Damian, the sullen Scot who struggles to maintain eye contact? Or Priyanka, the mother of four who’s sobbed her way through most of the day? It’s most certainly not Joy – Mrs Rainbow Jumper – who’s sitting so close to Tom she’s almost on his lap.