Heads nod around the table. Beth wants to talk about Christianne. She says they’d first met within days of her arrival from Portugal. She’d signed up for the Wednesday evening Zumba class at the Masonic Hall and she and Beth had shared a bottle of wine in The Feathers afterwards.

‘I think she knew even then,’ she says, ‘even before the GP sent her for all those tests. She told me it was payback, though I never understood what for. She carried a lot of guilt. You could sometimes feel it.’

‘You became friends?’ I want to know more.

‘Mates. I think she trusted me, and she certainly needed someone to talk to. Andy’s a lovely guy but he can be a bit remote. If I had MND, I’m not sure he’d be the person I’d want to be tucking me in at night.’

‘That’s unfair.’ Presley is sitting opposite. ‘It crucified him. It broke the bloke in half. He’d coped with all kinds of shit for most of his life, and then this comes along. He was in denial at first, as I guess we’d all be. Only when she got the diagnosis did any of that change.’

‘Change how?’

My question sparks an exchange of glances around the table and I sense that these people are trying to explore how far to take this conversation. Finally, it’s Beth who breaks the silence.

‘I knew,’ she says. ‘Chris told me last week.’

‘Told you what?’

‘Told me she was going to do it. They had a plan, in fact they always had plans, they were that kind of couple, but this plan was different because there’d be no coming back. She loved the water, the ocean, swimming every day, and when even that started to get tricky, she knew the time had come. I remember her telling me. I remember the phrase she used. “I want the ocean to take me away,” she said. “I want it all to stop.”’

‘And that’s when she went swimming? Off the beach?’

‘No.’ Beth shakes her head. ‘Not there.’

‘Somewhere else?’

‘Yes.’ She looks across at Presley, and I catch the faintest smile on his part. Go ahead, he’s saying. Tell them.

Bill is sitting at the head of the table, with Beth beside him. His hand settles lightly on hers. ‘You don’t have to do this, my darling. Not if you don’t want to.’

‘I know, but we’re friends, right? And this is about a woman we all loved, yes?’ Beth’s looking at the faces round the table.

‘Bill’s right,’ I say. ‘If it’s easier, I’m sure we can change the subject.’