He was standing behind her while Eva slotted the key in the lock, a light drizzle falling on them. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Nerves made Eva glance around at the neighbouring houses, watchful for a face at the window, a figure paused at the end of the drive. But there was no one there, only Ross’s Mercedes parked on the deserted street. She pushed the door open with her hip, saying:

‘Come in and I’ll show you.’

It was strange being back here. The house felt different and yet the same. The same brownish décor, the same dusty airlessness. And yet there was an emptiness to the place that was unfamiliar. No radio playing tinny pop in the background, her aunt humming tunelessly along. The silence was rich and enveloping and she felt the nerve endings along the back of her neck tingling as she led Ross through the rooms.

It felt like they were trespassing – burglars stealing through the house, aware of every creaking floorboard, each groaning step. This is Beth’s house now, she found herself thinking, but no feelings of jealousy flowed from that thought. She was just grateful that the house was empty and available to them – a place where she and Ross could be alone together.

In the bedroom, Eva looked around at the studded green velvet headboard she remembered, the same curtains with the Laura Ashley print that had been hanging there for as long as Eva could recall; she drew them now against the thin afternoon light. Ross stood in the doorway; his height and bulk made the room feel smaller, the furniture cramped and mean. He seemed to be hanging back, a shyness coming over him that was unfamiliar.

‘You sure this is okay?’ he asked, eyes darting around the room – the pressed flowers framed above the bureau, the scatter cushions over the worn chenille bedspread.

‘Trust me. No one comes here. It’s perfectly safe.’

‘You don’t think it’s weird, us being here like this?’ He glanced meaningfully at the bed between them. ‘I mean, she died there, right? Doesn’t that make you feel strange?’

‘It makes me glad to be alive,’ she said forcefully, and holding his gaze she began unbuttoning her blouse, taking her time, a performance that she was letting him watch, revelling in how his inhibitions loosened and then fell away, how she could tempt him into surrender.

Afterwards, they lay together in the bed, his body spooned around hers, and she felt the weight of his arm over her hip, luxuriating in the sweet slowness of time in this bedroom, so different to being in the car where they could never truly relax.

‘You laughed,’ he told her, his mouth by her ear. ‘When we were in the middle of it, you were laughing.’

She heard the smile in his voice, the question there.