Rachel swallowed, carefully taking a seat as she set the two halves of my teacup on the table between us. I spotted Dusty’s white hairs on the knees of her jeans. ‘At first I didn’t. Like you said, John was already part of the gossip mill, and the whole thing just sounded ludicrous. Only later, I found out things about them that made me change my mind. And when I really thought about it, about how much he used to talk about her … “Claire’s a real artist,” he was always saying. Looking back, it was like he was almost, I don’t know, obsessed with her. It was just strange.’

‘But what did you find out?’ I asked, heart beating quickly and Pandora’s box tempting. ‘What made you change your mind?’

Rachel stood abruptly. ‘I’m truly sorry. I never meant to come over here and speak ill of John, especially now that he’s gone. I know that’s an awful thing to do.’ She grabbed her bag, and I followed her to the front door.

‘There had to be something,’ I said. ‘Something that changed your mind.’

She cleared her throat. ‘It was always all talk, talk I don’t need to be repeating to you. Not now that he’s dead. Please give the flowers to Vera.’

Rachel opened the door and a gust of cold whooshed in, but before leaving, she turned back to me. ‘The thing is, I always told myself I was going to believe these sorts of stories. No exceptions.’

‘But Claire never even made that claim,’ I said, suddenly defensive.

Rachel sighed, pulling her jacket tighter. ‘Trust me, she didn’t have to.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is Vera couldn’t handle it,’ she said. ‘Not when it came to her husband.’

I didn’t keep the flowers.

After Rachel had gone, I broke every stem, thorns scratching the skin on my hands. Then I buried them deep in the trash, beneath expired milk and leftovers. I felt awful, but I couldn’t have Vera knowing I’d met Rachel and never told her, not now, not when I was about to leave; it would hurt her too much. The flowers would only upset her anyway.