‘This is always happening. Jack sending people round. Doing … stuff. Them somehow blaming me.’ I look up at her. ‘It’s not my fault that he slept with you. Or that he took photos. Or that they ended up online.’ I’ve got her attention now. She’s pacing around. ‘I think we’ve both been had here, love.’

She stops and stares at me.

‘OK. So how did you know it was me, then? I’ve changed a lot since that picture.’

She hasn’t changed at all. Maybe a little heavier, hair shorter. But it’s so obviously her.

‘I saw you on Facebook. In my wedding dress.’

She’s peering at me now.

‘But the picture didn’t show my face. It was from the back.’

My God. She hasn’t seen the second picture. I scroll down the screen on my laptop. She leans forward, then makes a little noise.

‘Holy shit. But I do look good.’ She turns to me. ‘Sorry. That’s really inappropriate. Sorry.’

Yes, Pam does look good. Nine out of ten, in fact. Couldn’t keep her mouth shut. I’m guessing that she was always blurting out inappropriate things. So let’s find out what she knows.

I put the kettle on. She’s fidgeting and tapping her foot. Staring at me. She’s very intense.

‘So why are you covered in feathers?’

I pour the tea. Slowly. Make her wait.

‘Come with me.’

She follows me upstairs. I open the bedroom door and she gasps.

‘Oh my God. Have you been robbed?’

‘No. This is what that picture made me do. I can’t bear to sleep in here any more. You weren’t the first, you know. My next-door neighbour saw him with all sorts. Brought them here in the afternoons. While I was at work.’

She’s looking at the picture of Charlie and Laura.

‘Those your two? Are they …?’

‘No. He made sure that I lost everything. Everything.’

I begin to clear things up and she’s helping me. She’s collecting the tiny seed pearls and the pieces of dress and putting them back in the box. She knows the layout of this room and she knows where the box belongs. When she’s collected as much as she can, she pushes it back on top of the wardrobe, which makes me hate her even more.

I fetch a bin bag and we scoop up the feathers silently. Then the smaller pieces of memory foam. Pam piles the bigger pieces on the bed base and we sit there, looking at the room, both tired to distraction. I make my move.

‘So what did he say, then?’

She’s rubbing her eyes.

‘Who?’

‘Jack. What did he say about all this? I expect he’s as upset as I am.’

‘Well, when my sister told me about the picture being on Facebook, I rang him. Just the sort of stupid fucking thing he would do.’