‘I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him,’ Patrick says, ‘’cos as far as I’m aware, he’s still the managing director.’

Maureen looks up from her plate. Patrick stands behind her chair. Chloe twists her fingers together underneath the table, pinching the skin until it hurts. The kitchen burns with silence. There’s a beat. Another.

‘Oh, that John, yes, of course I know him . . . well, I don’t know him because I’m just, you know, in admin, but yes . . .’ she nods.

Too fast?

She turns to look up to Patrick, nodding. ‘Yes, I know John, of course, by reputation.’ It’s a thin line between making it seem convincing and overacting.

Patrick picks up his newspaper and walks out of the kitchen. Chloe turns back to Maureen and, as she does, she’s sure she sees her shoulders relax.

THIRTY-TWO

Chloe sits beside Nan in the communal room at Park House. Between them are two cups of tea. Chloe’s is empty and steam has long since finished curling out of Nan’s. Chloe had reminded her several times that it was there, but it sits in the mug, the milk separating from the tea on the surface. An island breaks off and drifts away.

‘Miserable day out,’ Nan says.

She’s said this at least a dozen times.

Chloe reaches over for her hand and squeezes it. She’s all out of replies. She looks around the room, where each floral-patterned chair is filled with a grey-haired resident.

‘All old folk here,’ Nan mutters, cocking her head over at a group nearby.

A man and a woman sit on opposite sides of the room. Both of them staring outside at the trees and the park, the windows blurry with rainfall. Chloe hasn’t seen them here before.

‘Are they new here, Nan?’

‘Hmm?’

‘That man there and the lady sitting opposite him, I haven’t seen them before.’

‘Haven’t seen them where?’

‘Here, Nan.’

‘Where are we?’

‘Park House, Nan.’

‘What about it?’

‘That man and that lady?’

‘Who?’

‘Those two, there . . .’

‘What about them?’

Chloe sighs. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

She stands up and picks up both mugs to put them back in the kitchen. One of the care assistants is washing up. Chloe throws the two mugs into the bowl.

It gets dark early that afternoon, the sun never having quite managed to cut through the thickest cloud that day. Chloe gets up from her chair just before three. Hollie is back from Lanzarote and they’re meeting for coffee.

‘I’ll come again soon, Nan,’ she says, kissing her goodbye.

She is about to leave Park House when Miriam calls her back.

‘Chloe, did anyone give you the message from Claire Sanders?’

She tenses inside her coat.

‘No?’