Judith’s heart went out to her friend. The faded photos in Suzie’s sitting room had suggested that all wasn’t well between her and her family, but Judith knew that raising children was about the hardest job in the world. She could only imagine how challenging it must have been to do it as a single parent.

An intervention was required.

‘How about I make us both a nice cup of tea?’ Judith said. ‘With a teaspoon or two of sugar to replace our energy.’

‘Yes,’ Suzie said. ‘That would be nice. Thank you.’

Judith bustled out and Suzie was left on her own with her thoughts. She looked at the room; at the shocking mess of newspapers and magazines that lay everywhere; at the Blüthner grand piano by the oak staircase.

There was also the door to the side of the drinks table that Judith had told her she couldn’t go through.

Hearing the sound of clattering cups and saucers from the kitchen, Suzie got up, went over to the door and tried to open it. It was locked, as it had been the time before, but what was behind it? She put her eye to the keyhole, but the other side was shrouded in darkness.

Before she was discovered snooping, Suzie returned to the sofa and tried to take in the room again. Just who was Judith Potts?

‘Here we are,’ Judith said, returning with a tray that was laden with mismatched bone china cups and saucers, milk in a jug and a steaming pot of tea.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ Judith said, pouring out two cups of tea and stirring in heaped teaspoons of sugar.

‘You said you were a widow.’

‘That’s right.’

Judith poured the milk and handed over a cup and saucer for Suzie.

‘This is exactly what I wanted, thank you,’ Suzie said, taking a sip.

‘Good.’

‘But I don’t see any photographs of your husband anywhere.’

Judith didn’t want to talk about her past. In fact, she never talked about her past, it was one of the rules she lived by. But Suzie had shared some of her family history with her, so she realised it was only fair that she do the same.

‘No, I suppose not. But then, it wasn’t a good marriage,’ she said as she sat down in her wingback with her cup and saucer of tea.

‘It wasn’t?’

‘You know what they say. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. And I was young.’

‘What happened?’

‘You really want to know?’

‘If you don’t mind talking about it.’

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t often think about it these days, that’s all. Anyway, I’d just come down from Oxford, and I didn’t know what to do with my life.’

‘You were a student?’

‘It was the 1960s and love was in the air, as they say.’