The next day, Connie decided to stay at home. It was mayhem out there, she reasoned, Christmas frenzy building. But that wasn’t why she stayed inside. She didn’t trust herself not to invent a repeat of yesterday. Because, overnight, she’d come to the conclusion that the pressure she was under was making her mind play tricks, see things that didn’t exist.

Connie, as Tessa had also claimed, wasn’t used to being alone. She wasn’t good at it. Even if she had known someone in London, though – which she didn’t, other than her daughter, who wasn’t an option – she was in no fit state to socialize. It was two weeks until her friend got back, during a time when almost every other person in the country would be indulging in some form of festive celebration with family or friends. All she could think about was her family: Caitlin and Ash and little Bash dressing the tree, Devan arriving, the warmth and laughter, the brightly wrapped presents, the fizz, the turkey they would share. It was sending her round the bend. Aren’t they wondering how I’m coping, all alone here? she wondered plaintively, as she checked her phone yet again to find no messages from any of them. But they would assume Tessa was with her, of course.

For one more day she sat on the olive-green sofa, wrapped in the mohair throw, drinking tea and eating toast, Monty snuggled into her side. She ploughed through tiresome books about acting and economics – Tessa didn’t seem to do light reading – or watched endless daytime television. She now knew all about the pitfalls of buying a property at auction, how to make perfect gluten-free mince pies, a certain sportswoman’s mental-health issues, and how to tell a real Ming pot from a fake.

Enough, she told herself firmly, late in the morning two days before Christmas. Stop being feeble. Take a walk, go to the cinema, buy some food that isn’t bread. Get a grip.

It helped that the rain had stopped, delivering a glitteringly bright winter’s day. She couldn’t help yearning for home as she wove through the shoppers on the hill, deafened by the noise of the traffic and a brass band bashing out Christmas favourites. Right now it would be heaven to be tramping in the frosty sunshine with Riley. Up through the woods they’d go, bursting out of the trees at the top to enjoy the stunning view across the Levels to the distant Mendips. She loved that view. Devan knew that when she died he was to scatter her ashes at exactly that spot so her spirit could enjoy it for ever. She pushed away the thought that he might not give a toss where her remains were scattered any more.