It was three long silent seconds before Tom turned to him and, clearing his throat, said, ‘Yes. Good to see you, Mac.’ They shook hands. ‘How are you?’ he added, at last managing a thin smile. The strange, taut atmosphere lifted a fraction. Rose jumped up, saying briskly, ‘Well then! Who would like some tea?’

‘Let me do that,’ Clara begged. ‘Please, don’t get up.’

But Rose waved her away. ‘No, no, don’t be silly. I’m fine!’ She began bustling about, patting her husband on the arm while she went to fill the kettle. ‘So,’ she said, a little more brightly, ‘tell me what brings you here!’ Suddenly she paused, her hand flying to her mouth as she asked, ‘Oh! You don’t have any news, do you?’

Clara saw the half hope, half dread in her eyes and said quickly, ‘No, no news.’

And in that instant Rose seemed so desolate, Clara could hardly bear to look at her. Instead she gazed around the room, which she noticed was in an uncharacteristic state of disarray. The usually pristine surfaces were covered in piles of junk and dirty plates, the air, which was once full of the scent of fresh flowers or cooking smells, now had a stale, sour whiff. A kind of panic rose in her. No, she wanted to say, please don’t do this, don’t fall apart. You’re Rose and Oliver! You can’t give up on him, not yet. To cover her dismay she said weakly, nodding at the window, ‘Garden’s looking lovely, Rose.’

To this she gave a wan smile. ‘Oh, I’ve not been out there in a while, I’m afraid. Usually by this time I’d be gearing up for our annual spring garden party, sorting out the invites for the village and so on …’ Her smile faltered. ‘It doesn’t seem so important any more.’

At this, Tom made a strange, bitter sound and strode abruptly from the room. The four of them stared after him, until seconds later they heard the front door slamming shut. Clara and Mac glanced at each other in amazement.

‘So,’ Rose said, as though nothing had happened. ‘What brings you here?’

Haltingly, Clara and Mac explained their plan. ‘We might not find anything, of course,’ she told them, ‘but at least we’d be doing something …’

There was a silence, until Oliver nodded and, not meeting their eyes, said, ‘Well, yes … if there’s anything we can do to help …’

Clara looked anxiously at Rose, who said quietly, ‘Whatever you think’s best, darling, of course.’ She got up. ‘I’m very sorry. I hope you don’t mind, but I think I need to go and lie down now.’