“So do you have any children?” Mavis had asked, taking a sip from one of Audrina’s best china cups. She had pointed to a photograph. “Is that your son? What a good-looking boy.”

Audrina had drunk her tea too quickly and the liquid had burned on its way down. She had pressed her knuckles to the center of her chest, trying to ease the pain of the scalding. To an observer, it looked like she was clutching her heart.

“He—we—don’t see him anymore.”

It was as simple as that.

Mavis’s eyes had widened and Audrina could think of only one word for her expression: aghast. All these years later, she still could not puzzle out whether Mavis had been mortified at accidentally stumbling across such a sensitive subject, or by the idea of—she fumbled for the right word—the estrangement itself.

At least she and Mavis could talk about it. Not properly, of course. Not in depth, like those young girls today, discussing their most intimate secrets over a bottle of wine. But she had shared with her old friend a little about her feelings of loss. Not the circumstances, though. That was too personal.

A bat whirled in front of her, and she envied its freedom to follow its basest desires. Evening was rubbing out the color of the day, but the heat was unrelenting. It made her sleepy and slow. The smell of baking, warm and inviting, drifted through the open back door, competing with the arum lilies, protected by pristine white hoods.

Cooper dunked his biscuit into his tea and sucked it.

“There’ll be a watering ban, mark my words.”

She forced herself into alertness. “What will you do?”

He finished his biscuit and tapped the side of his nose. “Same as before.”

She didn’t like to ask what he meant. Cooper enjoyed being mysterious, even though he was the type of man who never let his car tax lapse and expected ironed pajamas and pants.

The doorbell rang.

She looked at Cooper and he looked back. They weren’t used to visitors this late, not even when the summer evenings clung on to light for as long as possible.

“Police,” they said together.

Audrina put down her teacup and went to answer the door. Cooper disappeared into the greenhouse.

Two officers were standing on the doorstep. She hadn’t seen this pair before. And she’d met a lot of them over the last few months. She gripped one of the handles of her wheelchair and sank into it, the strength suddenly gone from her legs.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” she said. “Another one, God rest his soul. We didn’t see anything, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry we can’t be more help. Would you like tea or coffee? I’ve made some cakes. They’ll be done soon.”