I hesitated, then went over to the door. I turned the latch and opened the door wide. She came in and quickly shut the door behind her.

She looked down at Tom’s body, then back at me. “Is he breathing?” she asked briskly.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

She took a little cosmetic mirror from her bag and knelt beside him. She held the mirror to his mouth for a few seconds, then looked at it. There was no mist on it.

“That’s how you check for breathing,” she said. “I read about it in a book.” She spoke as though I might find this information useful another day. Then she pressed her fingers on his neck. She felt again and again, then tried his wrist. She shook her head, but her face gave nothing away.

She stood with an “Oomph” and took out her phone.

I stood frozen as she said, “Ambulance, please. It’s an emergency. There’s been an accident.” She gave my address, then said, “My friend’s husband’s just tripped and fallen downstairs. He tripped on his jeans. He’s banged his head and there’s blood coming out of his ear. His back’s all twisted. I think it’s broken. I’ve checked for a pulse but I can’t feel anything.” She gave a gulp as though she was crying, but her eyes were dry. “I think he’s dead.”

At that I started to cry. Huge choking sobs overcame me. I kept reliving that moment where I could have grabbed his hand. I don’t know what I’d thought would happen but I hadn’t expected this. And yet I knew in that moment I was so furious I probably would have thought, Good! if someone had told me he’d die if I didn’t hold on to him. I went into the kitchen and sat at the table there, sobbing for everything I’d lost. I could hear Emma in the hallway, still on the phone.

She called to me, “They’re on their way, Ruby. Don’t worry, they won’t be long.” She ended the call and came into the kitchen. “I’ll put the kettle on. You must be in shock. Tea or coffee?”

I could still taste the coffee that Tom had made and thought I was going to be sick.

“I don’t want a drink,” I said.

“I’ll make one anyway.”

She passed me a box of tissues and I took a handful, then she moved about the kitchen as though she owned it, finding tea bags and mugs and milk. I edged away, still scared of her. Why was she here? Had she found out about Harry and me?

While the kettle boiled she pulled out a chair from its place by the dining table and said, “Now I need you to listen to me.”

I stared at her, terrified.