‘That good, huh?’

There was more shuffling, and he sensed she’d adjusted her position so she could talk again. ‘It’s not terrible,’ she said. ‘Not really. It’s just…’ She broke off while she searched for the right word. ‘Different. And different is hard work. Sometimes exhausting, sometimes overwhelming. You know what I mean?’

Unfortunately, he probably knew that better than she did. ‘Yes.’

He could hear the smile of relief in her voice when she answered. ‘I knew you would.’

He loved that sound. That slight change in her tone when she’d managed to express something she needed to, the joy at both having released it and having it accepted and comprehended. And he loved that he was part of that process, even if all he did was sit and listen. But in his shrinking universe, the fact that he could do anything positive, especially for someone else, was a rare blessing.

‘My friend Gabriela has a new boyfriend,’ she continued. ‘And she’s at that stage where everything he does is amazing, where every thought he has is an Einstein-worthy expression of wisdom.’

Brody let out a gruff laugh. ‘I can see what you mean about exhausting!’

Anna laughed too and the remnants of the jittery feeling that had niggled at him since he’d recalled the supermarket incident melted away.

‘But that’s how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?’ she added. ‘At the beginning. You’re supposed to feel that way. And I’d be sad for Gabi if she didn’t, but… I’m going to sound like a horrible friend if I say this, but you’ve already listened to me rant and rave and cry, so you might as well hear this.’ She shifted position, preparing herself. ‘That’s also part of the problem: they’re just so… so…’

‘Sickening?’ Brody suggested, making Anna chuckle.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t laugh. Told you I was awful. They’re just so loved up. And I’m happy for her, I really am, because she deserves this, but…’

‘It reminds you of what’s missing,’ Brody finished for her.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

For more than a minute they stayed like that, listening to each other’s silence on the other end of the line.

‘And I know people do go on to marry again after the death of a spouse,’ Anna finally said, ‘but it doesn’t seem real to me. It’s something I know logically, like a date learned in history class or the principle of gravity, but it doesn’t make it make sense here’ – Brody heard a faint thumping sound, like a hand or a loose fist meeting clothing – ‘in my heart. Because how could it ever be the same again? Do you feel that way too?’

Brody looked down at Lewis, who was napping in front of the fire, as usual, and he stalled by taking a sip of his whisky. ‘I understand what you mean,’ was all he was able to say. Now was not the time to explain.

‘How about you? Will you ever get married again?’