Melissa’s familiar handwriting caused a slight jump of alarm in her throat.

‘Where did you find this?’

‘In one of the boxes I took from her house. Somehow, I missed it when I was clearing things out. Look,’ and he held up the envelope it had come in for her to read. For Mark, in case, it said in Melissa’s familiar writing.

‘Was there anything else?’ she asked.

‘Nope. That’s it. Some suicide note, don’t you think?’

‘She was never one for words,’ Abi said, her thoughts racing.

‘I shouldn’t have gotten upset in front of Corinne,’ Mark admitted. ‘It was just that when I found the envelope it was almost a relief. The prospect of finally understanding why. But then I opened it and read that. I just couldn’t believe it. The disappointment and sheer frustration.’

It was there in him again, the swell of anger in his voice, his face crumpling with disgust.

‘We’ll probably never know why,’ she began. ‘I’m not sure Melissa found it easy to communicate what she was feeling, deep down.’

‘I was her brother. Her only family member. Am I that hard to confide in?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘She should have told me she was struggling. I would have helped her.’

‘You did help her, remember? All those times she fell apart, you were the one who picked her up, set her back on her feet again.’

Abi felt a small pulse of anger, thinking of all those nights when the phone would ring, Melissa sobbing down the line, I can’t cope, I can’t cope. She thought of family occasions where they’d have to ignore Melissa’s dour expression, the fug of depression she carried with her like a staleness in the air. All the time and energy they had devoted over the years to propping up his sister’s fragile ego, seeking new and diverse ways to rouse her from inertia, distract her from the shadows that crept across her mind. Never once had Abi seen Mark lose his patience over it. Each time the call came in the night, he dutifully got into his car and drove over. She knew now what he was thinking: years of patience and care, his quiet devotion, and after all that, she had left him this paltry note? No wonder he was shaken and angry. No wonder he was bewildered.

Tiredness crept up through her legs and she sat down in an armchair. It was one of the ones from Melissa’s house, small-framed in a Laura Ashley fabric. Privately, Abi had always found her sister-in-law’s furniture to be mean and fussy. The little house in Beaufield Court had seemed cluttered with furniture, dust-covered knick-knacks and framed photographs; the walls and floors swarmed with frenetic prints. She wondered how Melissa had been able to breathe in the stifling atmosphere of that house.