Marianne just nods. She still has Sarah’s card in her hands. I wonder how many times she has held it.

‘You’ve been a lot of help,’ I tell her.

She glances up at me. ‘Have I?’

I nod. ‘Of course.’

But the truth is I feel more off balance than ever. Marianne knew her, and says she knew her well, but what she has told me isn’t the real truth about Sarah. It can’t be. None of the pieces fit together. It only seems to have pushed them further apart.

She’s looking up at me, as though coming to a decision in her mind. ‘You know,’ she says, ‘I know someone else who might be able to help you. If no one else from the Facebook page gets in touch. Help you more than I have, I mean. There was an old boyfriend she talked about sometimes. I have the details somewhere, I once wrote them down for some reason. When I find them, I could text them to you. You could speak to him. Perhaps there are things he would know that I … don’t.’

I feel a rush of gratitude towards her, for acknowledging that there could be something she missed, and I feel that warmth towards her all over again. ‘Thank you. I think that would … really be helpful too.’

She has done her best. I can’t ask her for more. This has been hard enough for her as it is. ‘Thank you,’ I say again. ‘I really am grateful for this and … and for everything you did for me back then. No, you don’t need to get up,’ I tell her. ‘I can easily let myself out.’

It’s been a good meeting, I tell myself, overall. I’m glad that I’ve come, really I am. It’s been lovely to see Marianne, despite how she’s changed and despite the awkwardness of our conversation at times. I’ve always admired her, always respected her. And she’s really tried her best to help and I promise honestly to keep in touch. I smile down at her as I do my zip up to leave, but then I see that she needs to say one last thing.

‘Jennifer?’

‘Yes?’ I hover there, the zip cold on my neck.

‘About the email she sent you.’

‘Yes?’

‘I wouldn’t have done that. If it was me Sarah emailed, I would have replied. I would have stayed in touch.’

I’m standing above her, but I feel so tiny. ‘I know. I know you would have.’

And although my head is aching, it’s as though these words make a pact between us: acknowledging the error I’ve made, and my responsibility to put this right.

Chapter 14