She knows the answer: that she had no choice, that she had to explain for Sam, to relieve his guilt. And yet the relief is overwhelming. Closing her eyes, arms clasped around herself, she tests herself: waits for the knot in the gut, the panic attack, the desolation. But all she feels is a slow unclenching, as if muscles she never knew she had are loosening, relaxing. Suddenly, as if to convince herself that this is not a dream, she stands up and goes to the mirror. She stares into her own eyes. It seems as if she is meeting herself again after a very long time. Her reflection is familiar, reassuring; it even smiles at her. She wants to burst into tears but is unexpectedly seized with an extraordinary weariness. Going back to the bed, she rolls on to it, kicking off her shoes. Turning on her side, drawing up her knees, she drops into sleep as if she has tumbled from a cliff.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Amy comes downstairs just as Jack is about to go to the pub.

‘Sure you don’t want to come?’ he asks, pulling on his jacket.

She thinks about it and then shakes her head. She’s been in an odd mood these last few days since his birthday and he can’t quite decide if he should ask questions or leave it alone. Sometimes she needs a bit of encouragement to talk about her worries and he’s not sure if this is one of them. There’s been no sign of Cosmo and she hasn’t mentioned him. At the same time she doesn’t seem terribly cast down about it. Thoughtful, yes, almost as if she is working something out in her mind, trying to decipher a puzzle. But she’s not grumpy or snappy or miserable. Despite his tendency to tease he feels an unwillingness, just at the moment, to make jokes about Cosmo, to ask why he never turned up to the party.

As if she guesses his thoughts she smiles at him.

‘Well, get a move on then,’ she says. ‘Are you meeting anyone?’

‘I said I’d have a pint with Max,’ he tells her. ‘I saw him in Cranch’s this morning, looking a bit glum. Cara’s gone off with young Sam again. Getting very thick, those two.’

Amy grins. ‘Yes, you’ll have to watch out, Dad. Liking opera might just not cut it. You’ll have to try a bit harder.’

‘You’re not too old for a good smack,’ he tells her.

‘When you’re big enough you’ll be too old,’ she retorts. ‘For goodness’ sake, go. Max’ll be wondering where you are.’