She laughs. ‘Oh my God, Grace. Do you have any idea what you sound like? I don’t have a clue why Alex chose now to deal with his demons. As for me, bumping into Nick has brought back some unwelcome memories and I’d imagine the same applies to him. We were a shock to each other. Maybe he felt responsible, or guilty, and seeing me triggered a breakdown. I don’t know. You’re the one who lives with him. What do you think?’

I swallow. ‘It seems a little fishy.’

‘I’m sure it does. I hope he comes back.’

‘When you spoke to the police, why didn’t you tell them you knew Nick?’

She blushes. ‘I thought I could avoid it.’

‘You know that I will.’

‘Of course, but there’s no need. I’ll do it myself.’ She presses her fingers into the corners of her eyes, as if she’s trying to block her tear ducts. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t come clean before. I was thrown. I’ve had a tough time since Ben died, and it’s made me secretive.’

‘Is it because you don’t want anyone to know your husband killed himself?’

She gasps. She might have been ready for questions about Nick, but she wasn’t ready for that.

‘How the hell did you know?’

‘Alex told me.’

She slumps back in her chair and covers her face with her hands. We sit in silence. It’s so quiet I can hear the wind rustling the leaves of the tree that overhangs Anna’s garden from next door.

‘You really know how to drive the nail in, don’t you?’ She removes her hands to reveal eyes welling with tears. ‘I don’t tell people my husband killed himself. It’s too personal, OK? I’m ashamed that he didn’t love me or his son enough to stay. I’m ashamed that I couldn’t help him. I’m not going to talk to new friends about that. Why the hell should I? It’s my business. My pain.’

The tears are falling hard. She slashes them away with her fist. She’s angry and I feel terrible. I move around the table to sit beside her.

‘I’m sorry. That was incredibly insensitive.’

She sniffs and swallows. ‘Yes, it was. Please can you go.’

‘I don’t like to leave you like this.’

‘I’ll be fine.’ She jumps up, pulls a sheet from the roll of kitchen towel and dabs her eyes. ‘I’d better get back to work.’

At the door I hug her. Her body is slim and warm, but stiff with tension. Her hair smells of grapefruit.

‘Wait,’ she says. ‘How was he? How was Alex?’

‘He seemed fine. He’s a lawyer.’ No need to tell her what I actually thought of him. ‘Maybe you should get in contact. I can give you his email address.’