I should speak to my parents, too. We can’t keep skating round the subject for the rest of our lives, as if it never happened. That awkward moment in the restaurant yesterday was totally unnecessary. My best friend died. I was there when it happened. Except I wasn’t, was I? My body might have been, but my mind wasn’t. It was an accident. The coroner said so, didn’t she?

When half past seven comes and goes with no sign of Ross, I turn the gas off. He’s probably catching up on his paperwork. Even so, he could have rung. I drift into the living room with a cream cracker. Now that I’ve made up my mind to tell him, I want to do it right away. I don’t want to waste any more time.

By eight o’clock, my stomach is rumbling. Where the hell is he? I ring his mobile but it switches straight to voicemail. I can’t bring myself to leave a message. I don’t want to sound like the nagging girlfriend, checking up on him. Surely he’ll notice the missed call and ring back?

By half past eight, I’ve munched my way through four crackers. By nine, I’ve rung him five times. If I don’t eat soon, I’ll be ravenous, and that’s not good for my epilepsy. Being seizure-free for the last two years isn’t just down to my medication. It’s about me being disciplined and monitoring my health as closely as I can, not taking any unnecessary risks. Avoiding triggers. Like stress and hunger. Hmm. I’m not doing very well today.

I hear his key in the door just as I’m spooning some rice onto a plate and heating up a portion of the chili in a small pan just for me, which is what I should have done two hours ago. He breezes into the kitchen, and it’s a real struggle to keep the anger and disappointment from my face.

His eyes take in the pans on the stove and widen in surprise. “Hey, you’ve made a chili.”

He washes his hands at the sink. “I did tell you, didn’t I? That I was doing home visits this evening?”

I stare at him. “No, you didn’t. I wouldn’t have made this otherwise.”

“Shit. I’ve had so much work stuff on my mind lately. I was sure I’d told you.” He dries his hands on the tea towel. “Never mind, it’ll last, won’t it, in the fridge? We can have it tomorrow.”

“Don’t you want any now, then?”

He gives me a sheepish look. “I’m really sorry, but…I ate something earlier.”