I tried the same thing with the tea-caddy, urging it with my questions. Were we happy, Greg? It’s so hard to tell, after all that happened. It’s all become so muddy and confused, how can I make sense of it? We were happy, and we were unhappy. You were controlling, and you were amenable. You were irritable, yet patient. You liked playing Scrabble, yet you didn’t. You were gloomy, but apparently had a fund of rude jokes. Who can I trust, to tell the truth? I trusted you, and see what happened. But then I can’t even trust myself.

I gazed at the flowers, painted on the pot. Were lotus blossoms a symbol of rebirth and renewal? Azra could tell me; she knew about things like that.

I looked at the duct tape, thick black bands of it, brutally sealing the lid. Next to the delicate flowers it was shocking in its finality. I thought: it’s what rapists use, to truss up their victims.

This time I spoke aloud: ‘I’m so sorry, darling.’

A few minutes later I heard footsteps on the stairs. Azra came into the kitchen. She was wearing my little black dress.

She saw my face and stopped.

‘Do you mind?’ she said. ‘My clothes were soaking. I’ll give it back tomorrow.’

I didn’t reply.

‘Where on earth did you get it?’ she asked. ‘It’s so not you.’

‘I was so not me,’ I said.

‘The sort of thing you’d wear to a cocktail party in Esher.’

‘It was an aberration.’

She held out one of my cardigans. ‘And can I borrow this?’

‘Take them both. I don’t want them any more.’

‘Are you sure?’ She smoothed the dress over her hips. ‘I could probably do something with it. Take it in, here. Wear it with my Ghost jacket.’

‘Or give it to your Syrians.’

She sat down. ‘Have you been sorting out your wardrobe? Half of it was empty.’

I nodded. ‘I’ve been having a clear-out. I’m selling the house.’

Azra stared at me. ‘You’re kidding.’

The atmosphere shifted. Until now it had been curiously relaxed, almost like the old days. This was surprising, to say the least, but this was Azra all over.

Now the blood had drained from her face. She murmured something but I couldn’t hear.

‘What?’

‘You can’t do that,’ she whispered.

‘I’ve already got a buyer. I’m going to live in Deal.’

‘You can’t go,’ she muttered. ‘Don’t go.’

‘Why not? There’s nothing for me here.’ I suddenly snapped. ‘You put paid to that. And don’t tell me what to do. It’s none of your business!’

She jerked back.