I apologized, repeatedly, and told her that there had been some things happening at home that had put me off my game lately. She looked almost eager then, hoping, I think for some mitigation that she could work with. A bereavement would have been good, perhaps. Ironic, because there had been a death. But it was one I couldn’t begin to tell her about.

I could see her disappointment when I didn’t go into detail, but I hoped we would be able to work this out. I would write another full apology to Bennett and accept my punishment.

I couldn’t face telling Zoe, who would find out soon enough.

Rain-laced wind stung my face now, like it contained gravel. I thought about my mum and how proud she would have been that I got away from the estate and turned my life in a different direction. But maybe I wasn’t cut out for this career I’d wanted so badly. Maybe I wasn’t made of the right stuff to be a teacher, after all.

When I got home to the dark, empty house, I dried my head with a towel and then curled onto the bed, where I immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

IRENE

Irene forced herself to drink the cup of tea. It was the oddest thing, but she couldn’t seem to taste anything. She had always been fussy about tea, needing exactly the right strength and amount of milk, but since the funeral on Monday, she had been drinking it black. It all tasted the same. She wasn’t eating much, just toast, really, and once the weight loss would have been a source of pleasure, but it didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

Various people had been coming over: a couple of friends from the knitting circle brought food she ended up throwing in the bin, and her oldest friend Judith, who was quite infirm now, had been round with her son. Irene went through the motions of making them welcome and assured them she was quite alright, but the effort of talking was exhausting, and she longed for the house to be quiet again so she could be alone with her thoughts.

That woman Rowan had been calling her too. She had, Irene had to admit, been a bit of a godsend at the funeral, organizing sandwiches and talking to people when Irene hadn’t felt up to the task. But it wasn’t as though they were friends.

For the first time, she was allowing herself to wonder whether Liam really was dead too. This was something so appalling she could only go at it with tiny pecking motions.