‘I could be a better friend,’ Hanson countered, glancing at him and then away again. ‘A bit more supportive.’

Lightman seemed to think for a moment, and then replied, ‘It’s difficult. I don’t always find it easy to take offers of support. I hate thinking about my dad, so I avoid talking about it, too, and it always feels … awkward.’

Which wasn’t entirely unlike how she felt when it came to telling Jason about Damian, she thought, surprised both at finding some point of similarity with Ben’s reticence, and at his willingness to volunteer that much information about himself.

‘Makes sense,’ she said, and then she added, with a slight grin, ‘I mean, you being awkward.’

She heard Ben’s slight laugh, and it made her smile properly. It had been months since she’d made him laugh. It always felt like a victory, with Ben. And not just, she thought, because he looked like the school heart-throb she’d grown up trying to impress.

‘But what about you?’ he asked her. ‘How are things?’

‘Oh, they’re all right,’ she said, feeling the beginnings of heat in her cheeks. ‘I’m overdue spending time with my mum, and I seem to be incapable of doing laundry at the moment. Other than that, fine.’

Ben nodded, glancing over to her and then back at the road. She was poised for him to ask about Jason, but instead he said, ‘What about the awful ex? Has he been making life difficult?’

‘Oh …’ Hanson found herself lost for anything to say. How had he known to ask that question? Hanson hadn’t mentioned Damian since late last year, and she hadn’t told anyone about the way her life seemed to have imploded. Not anyone.

She was still framing an answer when her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it like a lifeline.

‘Just Domnall,’ she said, opening her messages with a forced laugh. ‘He wonders whether we’d like to get some Krispy Kremes for tomorrow on the way home.’

Ben shook his head. ‘Not unless there’s pizza waiting for us when we get back.’

‘Yeah, good point.’ Hanson took her time typing out the reply, and then, once finished, she turned away from Ben to look out of the window, as if they’d never begun a conversation about Damian. As if things were absolutely fine.

Jonah sat in one of the comfortable beige chairs in the entrance hall to the mortuary, wondering about Issa. There was grief there, and it currently took the form of denial. Six or seven times on the drive over, Issa had begun a sentence with, ‘If it’s not him …’ and Jonah had struggled to find the right words in reply.

He would have been more comfortable asking him formal questions. There was a lot to ask him at a better time. It was difficult to ignore that Issa had sent at least two extremely angry messages to Alex.