Gavin glanced up only briefly from his crossword book when she came into the living room. As Fiona had expected, he did not notice her red eyes. She had thought herself completely calm now, but when Gavin asked, “Nice afternoon?” she found, to her consternation, that the tears started up again.

“It was fine,” she said.

And of course even Gavin could hardly miss the quake in her voice. He looked up properly and said, “Are you all right, hen?”

Fiona burst into tears. She could only stand there and cry like a distraught child and when the words came, they were in a jumble.

“He shouldn’t have come back here,” she said. “It isn’t fair on any of us. Haven’t we been through enough, having that horrible thing happen right here, right on our doorstep?”

She was surprised when Gavin got up and put his arms around her clumsily. “There now, Fi,” he said, patting her back. “It’s all right.” But after a pause, he ruined it by adding, “You must remember that however hard it is for us, it’s much harder for Tommy.”

“So why is he here then?” she almost screamed, her voice muffled against his chest. “He’s doing nobody any good, just making us all remember.” She was aware of the tears all over her face, smearing Gavin’s shirt, and wondered if she was having some kind of breakdown.

“Calm down, hen,” Gavin said.

“But it isn’t fair to blame us!” she said. “You remember what he was like when he came round. And last night! He blames us, but it isn’t fair. Nobody could have known what John was going to do. He seemed so normal. And three weeks—it was three weeks after!”

She felt Gavin’s breath catch, and then he pulled slowly away from her and held her at arms’ length, looking into her face. “What do you mean, three weeks?” He was silent for a few moments, then spoke again. “Fiona,” he said, and she would wonder later what unerring instinct made him say it. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” she said. “I did nothing. Why would you ask me that?”

He looked at her steadily. “I don’t know.”

“What would I have done?” she said. “I did nothing.”

He shook his head and stepped away from her. “You’re not yourself.”

“How could I be, with all this upset going on? The sooner Tommy Baird leaves us in peace, the better.”

She watched as her husband sighed and turned from her, picked up his crossword book and sat back down in the armchair. He said, “Go and have a rest, Fi. I think you’re overtired.”

The nerve of the man. But she knew she would get nothing more from him now.