Rachel paused, giving me some space to tell her why I was really here. From the opposite wall, Vera’s photo continued to stare, but I tried my best to ignore her. She hadn’t wanted to hear what I had to say, so now I was telling someone else, simple as that.

I took a large sip of wine for courage. ‘I know this is strange, me showing up out of the blue, but I tried to talk to Vera, and she won’t listen, and now I’m afraid she’s mad at me …’ I picked at the skin beneath my thumbnail. ‘I just needed to talk to someone, and I know you get it.’

‘Get what?’ Rachel asked.

‘What it feels like to try Vera’s patience.’

She laughed, but it was bitter, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it looked like she wanted to cry. ‘Yes, I do,’ she said, eyes flicking briefly to the photo of Vera on the wall. ‘Unfortunately.’

I took another sip, feeling like Rachel and I could understand each other, like the two of us weren’t all that different, when it came right down to it. Each of us a different but similarly positioned complement to Vera’s radiance. Imperfect women who made her shine all the brighter.

‘How well do you know Claire’s dad – er, Sam Alby?’

Rachel raised an eyebrow. ‘Not well. But enough to know he hates John and Vera, to know he threatened them, all that.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ she said. ‘And his wife set me up with the cottage, but you know that already. Why?’

I gulped down more wine. ‘I didn’t know Jennifer was Sam’s wife – or Claire’s mom – actually. Not until today.’

‘Really?’ Rachel asked.

‘Vera says she told me, but I swear she didn’t.’

Her eyebrows furrowed. ‘Maybe she mentioned it in passing.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ I gazed down at my hands, then up again. ‘Someone’s been coming into my house.’

Rachel leaned forward. ‘What do you mean? Breaking in?’

‘Yes,’ I said, nodding. ‘There’s no other way to explain it. I thought it was my ex-boyfriend.’ I adjusted my scarf. ‘He was controlling,’ I said. ‘He hurt me.’

‘Oh. Oh, Lucy, I’m so –’

I shook my head vehemently. ‘That doesn’t matter now. The point is, it wasn’t my ex, I learned that last night, because the person who was coming in had to have a key, and he didn’t – he broke the window in the kitchen door. I called Jennifer, and she said that no one else had a key besides her, that the locks were changed between you and me and everything, and that her copy of my key was stored in her house, that no one but her husband and daughter could possibly ever touch it …’