‘Yes. That’s why I know he won’t spend the night in the spare room,’ Kate said.

Kelly wanted to argue with her friend, perhaps to admonish her, but there was no point. There was only warmth in Kate’s voice. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ Kelly said, and they hung up.

Kelly gathered her things and went inside. The short walk from the car saw her covered in snow by the time she walked into the hallway, and a wall of heat from the fire and the smell of roasting meat in the oven made her shoulders relax. Johnny was doing everything to charm her into believing that everything was back to normal and she hadn’t quite made up her mind how she felt about it. He came out of the kitchen and helped her with her things.

‘Wine?’ he asked. She accepted a large glass of red and took a sip, savouring the body of the vintage – not that she knew much about wine, but she could tell when he’d spent money on a bottle.

‘Long day?’ he asked.

She nodded, putting her glass down to take off her shoes. She went straight to the living area of the open-plan space and sat down on the huge sofa they’d chosen together, and held her glass close.

‘Lizzie in bed?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘What’s cooking?’ she asked him.

‘Chicken.’

She sneezed and sank onto the sofa, curling up and tucking her feet underneath her body. He sat down next to her and put his hand on her leg, and she closed her eyes. For just a second it was as if he’d never left. She was tired. Weary of pretending that she was all right without him, and that Lizzie didn’t need him. She missed moments like this, when the world outside was freezing over but inside her space, safe and warm, she could forget the case she was working on. Like the helicopter remains on the mountainside being slowly covered by a blanket of snow, she allowed her worries to submerge beneath a heady mix of open flame and red wine. She’d face what was left of it all in the morning. Johnny sat close to her and she moved for him to sit back, so she could lie on him.

They didn’t need to talk. Chatter would ruin the moment and perhaps pour doubt onto it. She sipped her wine and Johnny stroked her hair. She stared into the flames and allowed herself to be coddled by the perfect stillness of the house. The lamps cast an orange glow over everything and she felt herself drifting off. He smelled good, and even though she was beginning to feel the symptoms of a cold, she could still recognise her favourite scent on him. He kissed the top of her head and she finished her wine.

‘How long has the chicken got?’ she asked.