‘Cora,’ Tim says. ‘That’s enough.’ There’s a warning in his voice that makes my nerves stand on end.

‘If he’s what?’ I say. ‘Dead? Well, he’s not. All I’m asking is that you be a little more understanding of how I’m feeling.’

Cora contemplates me. ‘This is not about you, Grace. It’s about Nick.’

I speak carefully, trying to avoid outright antagonism at the same time as making myself perfectly clear. ‘I understand that, and of course I respect your right to know what’s going on. But I can call you if there’s a development and you can come straight back.’

She sighs deeply, shaking her head, as if I’m a child who doesn’t get it. ‘I feel closer to him here.’ A tear slides from her eye but she doesn’t seem to notice it.

‘Wouldn’t you want to stay if it was Lottie?’ Tim says.

‘Why do you have to make it so hard for me?’

‘In what way are we making it hard?’ Cora demands. ‘We’re here if Lottie needs to be looked after. We help with the housework and we’re happy to chip in for bills if you’re having problems.’

‘I’m not.’ Not yet, at least. I have a nasty feeling I will if Nick doesn’t come home before Angus’s deadline. Not that these two would be much help. The idea of them ‘chipping in’ is laughable. If I could, I’d cancel that Direct Debit. ‘I can’t relax.’

‘Oh well, if it’s a question of relaxing …’

‘I didn’t mean that. I’m not going to put my feet up the moment you’ve gone, but you’re making me tense. I don’t want you tidying up after me and sitting in judgement while I try and get on with my life. This is my house.’

‘We understand,’ Tim says, glancing at Cora to check she’s in agreement. ‘And we promise we won’t interfere any more. We’ll try to stay out from under your feet, but please let us help.’

‘We’re family,’ Cora adds. ‘We should stick together.’

‘Are you including me in that?’ I ask.

She doesn’t dignify the question with a response.

I go indoors, stomp upstairs and lie down on our bed. I haven’t been able to change the bedclothes since Nick went, and I pull his pillow on to my chest and hug it. Tears trickle down my cheeks, tickling my ears, drying on my neck. I wipe them away and turn on to my side, cradling the pillow and smothering my sobs.

There’s a knock on the door. Tim comes in and the mattress dips as he sits down beside me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. I push the pillow away and sit up, shuffling up to the headboard and wrapping my arms around my knees.

‘Grace, my dear.’