She hadn’t checked for a pulse. Should she have checked? She hadn’t wanted to go that close, but the reason for that – Tiff’s wide, staring eyes – also justified the fact that resuscitation would’ve been futile. It was blatantly obvious all life had left Tiff’s body.

Shit, shit, shit. She’s dead. Tiff’s dead. How?

God. The realisation that Tiff might’ve been lying on the kitchen floor bleeding out when she’d been there yesterday hit her. No wonder her knocking, the ringing of the doorbell, went unanswered.

Tiff hadn’t been ignoring her.

She’d been dying.

Louisa’s mouth widened, a high-pitched wailing emitting from it. She’d been right outside when her best friend had needed her most, and what had she been thinking? That Tiff was inside, ignoring her, or hiding Oliver. If she’d pushed the patio door open yesterday, Tiff might still have been alive.

She could’ve saved her life.

Another wave of nausea crashed over her and she retched. More bile forced its way into her mouth. She swallowed, again and again, her throat burning with more ferocity each time. She needed water.

Pulling her legs up with both arms, Louisa forced them into a kneeling position, then attempted to stand. Her whole body shook, her legs like rubber – bending and wobbling, threatening to give out again. With her hands on the walls to keep herself steady, Louisa took small steps and shuffled back towards the kitchen. Now she was over the initial shock of seeing her friend on the floor, blood oozing from her head, Louisa took a closer look at her surroundings. A thick smearing of blood was visible along the rolled edge of the granite worktop, which covered the centre island, the feature Tiff had wanted most when she’d had her kitchen redesigned. A one-litre plastic bottle lay on its side, the lid off, and the water that had evidently spilled over the edge had mixed with, and diluted, the blood, making an obscene pinky puddle to the side of Tiff’s head.

Louisa tried to take it all in; figure out what had happened. It looked as though Tiff might have slipped on the wet tiles, fallen and banged her head. How tragic something so trivial could end a life. Water. Something essential in keeping us alive. Louisa pressed her fingertips to her eyes to prevent more tears escaping. It seemed Tiff’s obsession with only drinking bottled water because she was afraid of getting cancer from tap water had ultimately been the reason she’d died. If the situation wasn’t so dreadful, Louisa might have laughed at the irony.