Meredith knelt at his feet and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. ‘I know,’ she said. She was crying too; he could feel her hot tears on the skin below his ear. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s not fair, it’s just not fair. She was such a lovely person, and could have been so right for you…’

They wept together, rocking, taking comfort from their closeness, as if their grief was halved by sharing it.

Eventually Meredith sniffed and sat back on her heels, scrubbing her eyes. ‘I still haven’t told the police that I slept with Ralph.’

Pete blew his nose with the cotton hanky he kept in his pocket for when he had hay fever. ‘Shit, Mez. You can’t now. Especially not after Andrea. They’re going to think you’ve got something to do with it!’

‘That’s crazy, why would they? Ralph and Andrea were both my friends. Why the hell would I ever drown them? I suppose it depends what the post-mortems show. At the very least they’d have me for obstructing the course of justice, or withholding evidence, or something.’

‘That Davis guy would probably forgive you anything. I doubt you can do any wrong as far as he’s concerned.’

‘He might be a fan but he’s a cop first, Pete. I mean, seriously – you think if I’d killed them he’d, like, just let me off with a warning because he had all Cohen’s albums?’

Pete stood up slowly, like an old man, a hand in the small of his back. ‘I’m not thinking straight. I just keep seeing her…’

‘Me too,’ Meredith said, idly tracing the edges of her scar with a forefinger. Pete had long ago observed it was a thing she often did when she felt unhappy, as if she was reading her pain like Braille. Meredith drawing attention to it herself was pretty much the only time he ever noticed it these days. ‘How are you going to go back to the barge after this? I don’t know how I am.’

Pete sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know either.’ He walked towards the kitchen and opened the fridge door. ‘I’m not hungry, but we haven’t eaten all day. What have you got in?’

‘Eggs. Might be a bit of bacon left. I really don’t want anything though, apart from wine, and I don’t even have any of that.’

‘Is that all? You need to go shopping.’

Meredith leaned on the kitchen door frame and scowled at him. ‘Well, sorry, Pete, but I’ve had other things on my mind.’

He turned, egg box in hand. ‘Are you wondering…?’

‘What?’ They held each other’s gaze. Meredith put her damaged hand defensively behind her back.