Instinctively, without registering what I was doing, the plate I was holding had left my hand and sailed across the room, landing with a sickening thud against the back of Ben’s head, before crashing into pieces on the kitchen floor. His legs gave way and he seemed to melt down onto the cold, tiled floor, where he lay very still.

My mouth dried instantly. What if I’d killed him? I made my way over to him, stepping tentatively over the pieces of smashed crockery. ‘Ben?’ I said, rolling him over onto his back. His face was deathly pale but I could see that he was breathing. ‘Oh, thank God,’ I said, stroking his face. ‘Come on, Ben, wake up, darling. You’ve fallen over.’ I gave him a small shake.

After what seemed like an eternity but was probably no more than a minute, his eyes flickered open. He looked at me unseeingly, before he seemed to regain focus.

‘You’re OK,’ I told him gently, making a promise to myself there and then that I would never hurt him again. This had been too much of a fright. But I didn’t seem able to control it. The anger inside me just bubbled up out of nowhere. ‘You’re OK,’ I repeated, as much for his benefit as for mine.

Ben reached up to touch his head and winced.

I helped him into a sitting position and got an ice-pack from the freezer. ‘Here, put this where it hurts. You’ll be fine.’

Ben did as he was told and sat quietly while I swept up the broken pieces of plate.

‘Right, let’s get you upstairs.’ He allowed me to help him stand and lead him up the stairs to the bedroom. I lay him on the bed and perched beside him, taking his hand in mine. ‘What can I get you?’ Relief that he seemed to be OK was making me solicitous.

Ben gave me a wan smile. ‘Nothing. Just lie with me for a little while.’

I took off my shoes and lay down with my head on his chest and my arm across his body. It felt surprisingly nice. For the time being at least, the storm had passed.

Chapter Thirty

Charlotte pulled onto the driveway of Jo’s house, which had once been as familiar to her as her own. The last time she’d been here was the day of Peter’s funeral and it had been such a bittersweet experience to be back, in the home where she had spent so many happy times with Ben and his parents.

It had always been such a warm, vibrant and inviting place, full of laughter, celebration and fun. But even by the time of the funeral, it already felt like a shell of its former self. With Peter gone, it was as if the heart and soul had been ripped from its beautiful walls and it was just a building where a pall of sadness hung in the air. At least back then, the summer sun provided some warmth, but with autumn’s smoky dampness now in the air, it looked as cold as it felt.